


Promise Not to Leave

by celeste9



Series: Promise [37]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Angst, Cake, Companionable Snark, Dancing, Drinking, Family, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Suits, Tuxedos, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-18 15:51:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1434157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The road to Lester and Becker's wedding isn't as smooth as one could hope, but that really shouldn't have surprised them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fic I have long envisioned as the swan song of this series, for better or worse. Thanks to fififolle for betaing and cheerleading. Fuflills the 'wedding' square on my Trope Bingo card, and hopefully will make sense to anyone who hasn't read the rest of the series. The title is from the song Promise by Eve 6, which is also where the title from the original fic, Promise Not to Try, came from. The song pretty much encapsulates the relationship between Lester and Becker in this series as I see it.
> 
> ETA: Now with amazing cover art courtesy of deinonychus_1! Look at the cake!!

[ ](http://s362.photobucket.com/user/ceteste9/media/201225_600_zpsa548559e.jpg.html)

“So when exactly is this wedding of yours happening?” Jess asked, sliding into a chair opposite Becker in the break room. “Because it’s now been three months and you don’t seem to even have a date yet, let alone started planning.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of a long engagement?” Becker asked, sipping his tea.

Jess pulled a face at him. “If there is anyone who doesn’t need a long engagement, it’s you. You aren’t having second thoughts, are you?” Her lips tilted in a tiny frown, her eyebrows drawing together in concern.

“No, Jess, I promise. No second thoughts.”

“Oh, good,” Jess said, her expression immediately clearing. “I was starting to think you’d need me to stage another intervention.”

“Please don’t.”

Jess laughed and patted his hand from across the table. “What’s the hold-up then?”

Becker shrugged. “Nothing, really, we just… haven’t talked about it, I suppose.”

“You haven’t talked about it. You haven’t talked about your wedding.”

“We’re blokes, what do you expect? I can’t say I ever dreamed of my wedding day and Lester’s already done it once before. It can’t be all that exciting to him to have to go through it again.”

“To have to go through it again?” Jess repeated, sounding appalled and ever so slightly angry. “You make it sound like a chore!”

“I don’t mean it that way, it’s only… It’s just a day, and a piece of paper, you know? It already feels like we did the important part, the part where I asked and he said yes, the part where we said we wanted to spend our lives together.”

Jess’ face had softened. “Aw. See, you can be sweet sometimes.”

Becker rolled his eyes at her and pushed his chair back, getting up to wash his mug.

“You still need to set a date, though. Hurry up or I’ll do it for you.”

There was no doubt in Becker’s mind that that was an ultimatum.

-

Becker prided himself on being cool under pressure. He couldn’t have made it in the SAS if he wasn’t. That being said, Jess - yes, sweet, tiny Jess - made him nervous. It wasn’t a good idea to be on her bad side and he was actually vaguely frightened when he imagined what she might do if he went on without addressing the whole wedding thing.

That was why Becker sat down at the dining room table where Lester was checking his email and said, “So, uh. This wedding we’re having. I suppose we should talk about it at some point.”

“Yes, I expect so,” Lester said without looking up.

“Oh, you’re going to be purposely difficult, aren’t you? You should know that leaving things up to me will only result in disaster.”

Lester’s mouth twitched. “I didn’t want to push.”

“You should probably push a bit harder when it comes to things like this.”

Lester shut his laptop and pushed it slightly away from himself. “Is that… Are we going to have a fight?”

Becker exhaled. “No. I don’t want to have one, anyway.”

“Oh, good. I’m not prepared for a fight.”

“Because you’re usually prepared when we do have one? You know what, never mind, I really don’t want to know. All I’m saying is, I’m completely daft at all of this and you could save yourself a lot of trouble by pushing harder.”

“I seem to recall several occasions when that very much did not work out in my favour.”

Becker winced. “You do know how to pick your moments.”

Lester touched his fingertips briefly to the back of Becker’s hand, a quick flash of regret showing on his face. “I’m sorry. But I think it’s rather unfair of you to say that to me considering our history.”

“I suppose.”

“You can’t shift all the blame to me and just say, well, I’m rubbish so it’s your fault because you should know better.”

“You’re right, of course. You’re always right.” Becker slumped back in his chair, his eyes flicking away as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Don’t do that, either,” Lester said, and now he sounded weary. “None of your passive-aggressive sulking. You know why I don’t push, Hils? I don’t push because I want you to arrive at things yourself. What good would it have done me if I’d just bothered you until you agreed to marry me? I wanted you to make the decision yourself, so I would know it was because you wanted to, not because you thought you should, or because I wanted you to. I haven’t said anything about the wedding because I thought it would be best if I gave you the time to quietly panic about it, or however you needed to work through your emotions.”

Becker listened silently, and then he said, “I’m not panicking,” because he really couldn’t cope with any of the rest at the moment.

“Okay.”

“I’m not! I’m not sorry I asked you.”

“I sincerely hope not.”

“Don’t joke. I’m not, I’m not sorry. I want this, I want you, it’s only… Fuck, I don’t know. You’ve been married before, you know what an ordeal it is.”

“Hils, love, it’s just us. I don’t want a big fancy ceremony and I don’t think you do either.”

“I think my mother does.” Becker had in fact been avoiding his mother even more than he usually did because he couldn’t deal with her pestering him about the wedding.

“Your mother isn’t the one getting married. This is for us, not her.”

“I feel like I should--”

“You aren’t obligated in any way,” Lester interrupted. “Don’t let anyone make you feel like you have to do what they want you to. We can have a simple ceremony in front of our closest family and friends, and that’s it.”

“That’s all I want,” Becker said.

“Good, then, it’s settled. Let your mum host the reception. That should satisfy her, shouldn’t it?”

Becker leaned forward and kissed Lester’s mouth. “God, I love you.”

“I know,” Lester said, rather smugly.

-

Becker leaned over Jess’ shoulder, setting down a calendar with a date circled on it. “Not exactly set in stone as we don’t have a venue yet, though to be honest I’m considering just having the whole thing in my mum’s garden. Still, thought you might like to be the first to know the tentative date.”

Jess’ fingers froze above her keyboard while she stared at the calendar. Then she squealed and spun in her chair, throwing her arms around Becker’s middle. “Becker! Oh my God! I’m so proud of you.”

Rolling his eyes, Becker patted Jess’ back. “I’m glad you’re pleased. You’re scary when you’re angry.”

“I know,” Jess said, beaming. “Shall I gently encourage you to do anything else?”

“Oh, please no, not yet. Preferably not ever,” Becker said, and left her.

-

Becker had only just arrived home when his mobile rang. He slid it out of his pocket and, standing on one leg while he started to get his boots off, waved at Lester to go on while he answered. “Lils?”

“Hi. Bad time?”

“No, it’s great, actually. We just got home, James is going to order takeaway.”

“Will you tell him hello from me?”

“Lily says hi,” Becker said as he walked through the living room in the direction of the bedroom.

“Hello, Lily,” James said. “Is Indian all right, then?”

“Yeah, that’s great. Order whatever you like. James says hi back,” Becker said into the phone.

“I can’t get over how adorably domestic you two are.”

“Shut your mouth.”

Lily laughed. “You know you have to let me have my fun, Hils, I’ve been waiting so long for the opportunity.”

“Yeah, go on, take the piss,” Becker said, rolling his eyes even though Lily wasn’t there to see it. “Your fun is always at my expense.”

“What else are brothers good for?”

“Nothing, according to you.” Becker pulled a clean shirt out of the drawer and then held the phone out long enough to yank the dirty one off and replace it.

Lily went on, more seriously, “I wanted to tell you something, though.”

When she hesitated, Becker prompted, “Lils? Should I be worried?”

“No! Oh, no, definitely not. It’s good news, or at least I think it is, it’s… I’m pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant?”

He must have sounded incredibly confused because Lily said, “When a man and a woman love each other very much--”

“Oh God, stop, stop right now. You’re pregnant!”

“Yes, I did say that.”

Becker was glad no one was there to see him because he was grinning big enough to embarrass himself. “I’m going to be an uncle! Did you just find out?”

“Well, actually, Mark and I have known for a bit, but we didn’t tell anyone.”

“Why not?”

“The honest answer? I didn’t want to take anything away from you and James.”

“Are you being serious? Lily, that’s ridiculous, that is so much stupider than the things I do. This might sound crazy, but it is actually possible for more than one of us to be happy at once, and for everyone else to be happy for us all at the same time.”

“I’ll admit it was perhaps a bit silly, but I draw the line at ‘stupider than the things you do’.”

Becker ignored that. “To be honest, you would’ve been doing me a favour by distracting Mum from me for a bit.”

“Perhaps I should’ve put off telling everyone a bit longer, then.”

“Fuck you,” Becker said good-naturedly.

“Don’t make me regret telling you first.”

Becker was silent for a few seconds because he might actually be touched by that, but then he said, “Aw, you do love me best.”

“Bye, Hils,” Lily said, and he could practically hear the rolling of her eyes.

“Bye,” Becker said, disconnecting and heading back out to the living room. “Lily’s having a baby,” he announced, throwing himself onto the couch beside Lester.

“What? Becker, that’s wonderful.”

“I’m going to be an uncle.” Becker beamed at Lester, feeling rather ridiculously cheerful.

“Generally that is the case when one’s sister has a baby,” Lester said, his mouth curving.

Becker swatted him anyway. “Even your rude sarcasm can’t diminish my glee. I am going to be the best uncle ever.”

“I expect so,” Lester said, and he didn’t even seem to be trying to be mocking. He looked merely fond and a little bit serious. “You took to my kids naturally enough.”

Becker snorted. “Are you joking? Your kids terrified the shit out of me. I never knew what the hell I was doing with them.”

“That makes two of us, then.” Lester laughed a little. “Honestly, I think my parenting has been nothing more than a series of happy and not so happy accidents, the failures somewhat outnumbering the triumphs.”

“That’s not true,” Becker said, feeling an almost intrinsic need to defend Lester against himself.

Lester put his hand on Becker’s thigh and squeezed it lightly, changing the subject. “You know I… I’ve wondered sometimes, whether you’d ever wanted to have children. I think that’s one of those things you should know about your partner. Probably we should have discussed it.”

“What, you want to be a daddy again? Adopt some poor little orphan baby together? I think the fashionable thing is to get one from a third-world country, but I’m open to all possibilities.”

Lester’s skin paled slightly and Becker couldn’t help laughing at him.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist. Sid and Nancy are about all I can handle, thanks. Honestly I never thought I’d have kids. I’d always planned on being career military and I... Well, the whole wife and kids thing was never on the table.”

“Because of your dad,” Lester said softly.

Becker hadn’t wanted to say that but it figured that Lester would hear it anyway. “Yes. I... I didn’t want to do that to anyone, it didn’t seem fair.”

“It doesn’t seem fair to you, either.”

“Can’t miss what you never had,” Becker said, trying for careless but thinking he probably landed somewhere in the vicinity of miserable. “Anyway,” he went on, because the look on Lester’s face was truly awful, “I never particularly wanted kids of my own. Figured my sisters would have plenty of them and I’d just be the beloved uncle, showing up now and then with fabulous presents and even better stories, and then I’d get to swan off when they started shouting or crying or vomiting.”

Lester laughed. “That’s quite the plan.”

“Perfect, really.”

“I suppose you never intended on ending up with my kids.”

“No, I really didn’t. But your kids are great, they are, when they aren’t driving me apoplectic, I mean. At the end of the day, though, they’re _your_ kids. It isn’t the same.”

“No, it isn’t,” Lester agreed, “but you’re still wrong. They aren’t yours by blood, but they’re yours all the same.”

Becker tucked his head against Lester’s neck to hide his face. “Is it weird that I love them so much?”

“Not to me,” Lester said, combing his fingers through Becker’s hair.

Luckily, the takeaway arrived momentarily, providing a convenient interruption before things got too embarrassingly soppy.

Well… It was likely already too late for that, but it stopped things getting any worse at least.


	2. Chapter 2

Julia came to stay with them for a weekend, ostensibly because she wanted some quiet for studying. Lester thought she was fighting with Agatha but he didn’t feel it was his place to say anything unless they mentioned it first.

They didn’t see her for most of Friday evening, as she proceeded to shut herself in the spare bedroom immediately upon arrival. She ventured out when Lester called her for dinner and then disappeared again after dessert, this time into the study. Becker was pretty sure that she had taken over the TV when he and Lester went to bed, though.

Saturday morning, Becker and Lester sat at the dining room table with housing information from their estate agent. Months ago Becker had broached the idea of buying a holiday cottage together and they were finally getting around to the serious business of making it happen.

“Is this for your cottage?” Julia asked, strolling up to the table and picking up a picture from the stack. “Or should I say, your sex getaway?”

“Julia,” Lester said, frowning.

“That’s what it is, isn’t it? Why else do people buy cottages except to go away for the weekend and have sex on every available surface without fear of interruption? I get it. I mean, it’s gross, but I get it. Just don’t expect to ever get me to visit you there.”

Becker turned to Lester. “You should never have reproduced.”

“You can blame Agatha for that.”

Julia’s next comment was directed to Becker. “Oh, what, like your offspring would be so great? They’d be sullen-faced and moody, angsting all over the place when they aren’t trying to convince people that because they say something completely deadpan it makes it funny.”

“You know, Julia, I thought we had a special bond,” Becker said, very seriously.

“I only let you think that so you’d keep slipping me money and chocolate.”

Becker’s ears were burning while Lester emitted a tiny snort. “That’s slander,” he muttered.

“So you didn’t give me a peppermint cream last night while Dad was doing the washing up?”

Becker buried his face in his hands, but not quickly enough to miss the way both of them were smirking at him. Sometimes he rued the day he’d got mixed up with the Lesters.

-

Becker owed Lester a report (and it really wasn’t good to owe Lester anything, particularly not when you happened to live with him and thus could be nagged at more often) so he went over to the dining room table, where he’d left his laptop. Julia was already sitting there, the majority of the surface covered in books and notes and various other school-related things. She even used flashcards; that was just adorably nerdy.

“I’m glad to see you’ve made yourself at home,” he said.

She only barely glanced at him. “Dad’s always telling me to consider his place my home away from home.”

Which Becker knew Lester said more for himself than for the kids. He would never, ever say so, but Becker knew that Lester didn’t regret anything more than the fact that he wasn’t the person his children came home to every day after school, and never really had been.

“You didn’t want to work in the study?” At Julia’s raised eyebrow, Becker said, “Right. The desk’s not nearly as big as the table. Wouldn’t want you to feel cramped.”

“Your attempt at sarcasm is noted, but honestly, that was weak. I like how you think that might bother me when I grew up with Dad, who might as well be called King James the Sarcastic.”

“I was really wrong when I thought you were the nice one, wasn’t I?”

Julia didn’t look up but Becker could see she was grinning at her textbook.

Becker reclaimed his laptop from beneath a stack of blank index cards and a few pencils. “Mind if I sit here and write a report?”

She waved vaguely in the direction of the chair opposite her. “I’ll try not to take over your spot.”

So Becker sat down and opened up his computer. The incursion had been simple, just these little rodent things that were more a nuisance than anything else. The report shouldn’t take long; he’d only been putting it off because paperwork was boring.

He hadn’t been typing long when Julia said, “You’d be a great dad, you know.”

Becker looked at her over the top of his laptop. “What?”

Julia was chewing on her lip. “I just... I was teasing, before, but I think you’d actually be a really good dad.”

Well, that was oddly touching. “Thanks, but you didn’t have to say that.”

“Did you want kids? Do you want kids?”

“It’s funny, your dad was just asking me that.”

“So do you?”

“I think I’m happy with the way things turned out.”

Julia slid out of her chair to come around the table and kiss Becker’s cheek, saying, “Me, too,” before going back to her books like nothing had happened.

Becker stared at the top of her bowed head for a while and then he, too, resumed his work. That was how Lester found them half an hour later.

He swept his hand briefly over Julia’s back as he passed, coming to stand beside Becker. “Oh, how miraculous. Is that the report you’ve been keeping from me?”

Swiftly closing his laptop, Becker said, “You shouldn’t be thinking about work, sweetie, your daughter’s here.”

“Leave me out of it,” Julia muttered, not looking up from the scribbling of her pen.

“Nice try, dear,” Lester said, his fingers squeezing a little too tightly into Becker’s shoulder. “You’re lucky that I need to talk to you about the guest list for the wedding.”

Becker wouldn’t call that precisely lucky, but he figured it was going to be one awkward topic or another. Might as well be the wedding. “Great.”

He waited for Lester, but Lester was looking at Julia.

At their continued silence, Julia raised her head. “What?”

“Don’t you think it’s time for a study break?” Lester suggested in that particular tone of his that wasn’t a suggestion at all.

“Oh, is this where you want me to leave because you’re going to have a personal conversation? Or are you going to end up snogging?”

Becker looked to Lester. He’d prefer the snogging option, if anyone wanted his opinion. (He knew that no one did.)

“Whatever,” Julia said, pushing her chair back. “Either way I’d rather not witness it. Shout when it’s safe to return.”

“So. Guests? Is that what you actually want to talk about?” Becker said, when Julia had disappeared down the hall. “Because I thought we were settled on that.”

“You’re certain you don’t want to invite anyone else? Your rugby mates? Anyone from the ARC?”

Oh. So that’s how it was. “Honey, if you want to know whether or not I’m going to invite Russ, just say so.”

“I didn’t mean him particularly, but now you’ve mentioned it, would you like him to be there?” Lester asked, as if he was fooling anyone.

“Would you?”

“I hadn’t thought about it either way.”

Everything seemed quite clear now. Becker wondered how it hadn’t occurred to him before. “You’re a liar. I think you want him to be there so he can see you lay claim to me once and for all.”

“Now, that is entirely your own imagination talking.”

“Is it?”

“Well. Perhaps not _entirely._ ”

Becker took Lester’s hand and pressed a swift kiss to the inside of his wrist. “I love it when you get inexplicably possessive, sugar. But you needn’t worry. At this point, Russ wouldn’t touch me if you threw me at him and told him it would save my life.”

Lester arched an eyebrow. “Because shagging is so frequently a life-saving procedure.”

“You might be surprised,” Becker said, grinning. “Anyway, I don’t want to invite anyone else. Small is good, I think.”

“Yes, I quite agree. But Hils... About Lieutenant Russell.”

“Yes?”

Lester gripped his hands behind his back, his posture straightening ever so slightly. “Now that you’ve mentioned him, I had wondered... Well, I haven’t been able to keep from noticing that he seems to be getting quite cosy with Jess.”

“Oh, Christ. James, are you getting proprietary over Jess as well, now?”

A spot of colour rose in Lester’s cheeks. “I’m merely concerned, that’s all.”

Becker resisted the urge to tease him further. No matter what he said, Lester seemed to consider Jess as good as his own daughter and acted appropriately. Suitors beware. “I can promise you, even if Jess were interested, which I guarantee she is not, she is lacking a particular something that Russ likes in prospective partners.” Becker was really just happy that Jess was friendly towards Russ now. She had been distinctly chilly towards him for ages, as she viewed him as the instigator of Becker and Lester’s now legendary fight. Which really, really wasn’t true, but Jess was a bit overprotective.

Lester was reminding Becker of a dog with its hackles raised. “Oh? Because as I see it, Russell would be lucky to have her, Jess would be lowering herself to even--”

“James,” Becker said, laughing. “No need to get defensive. I only meant that she hasn’t got a prick. Russ is the gayest man I know.”

“Oh,” Lester said, deflating. “I see.”

Becker wanted to say something in regards to the fact that it had been Russ who had seduced him, back at Sandhurst, but decided that would be in poor taste. “He’s got a boyfriend now, anyway.”

“Has he now?”

“They met walking their dogs, if you’ll believe it. Like a meet-cute in a horrible romantic comedy.”

“How... sweet,” Lester said, his lip curling slightly.

Becker laughed. “Aren’t you glad we can just tell people we met at work? Nothing embarrassing about it.”

“Indeed,” Lester said, and patted the top of Becker’s shoulder. “Nothing embarrassing at all about how you pined after me.”

“You always get that part confused,” Becker said, the protest rote by this point.

“Yes, love, keep telling yourself that,” Lester said. “Now, when I check my email, will I see something from you?”

Becker lifted open his laptop again, lamenting the fact he’d thrown in with such a taskmaster.


	3. Chapter 3

When James had been married to Agatha, she had been the perfect society wife. She had accompanied him to numerous functions, always looking respectably beautiful, and she had hosted highly successful dinners for important people James had needed to impress as he worked his way up the ladder. Agatha had been gracious and charming and had always managed to make James look good.

It was just part of the life. Something she had agreed to without words, simply because she had married James.

Becker had never been to anything of the sort.

They weren’t a secret any more. They were going to be married. If James forever remained unaccompanied, the gossip would be even more appalling than it would be if James arrived with Becker on his arm.

Becker was going to have to learn, like Agatha had, how to cope. Sooner likely would be better than later.

“There’s a dinner,” James said to Becker, pausing.

“Yes?” Becker prompted.

“One of those dreadful hobnobbing things, you know.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve been with you long enough to know.”

“Of course. It’s only that… I thought perhaps you might like to accompany me.” It was harder to say than James had been expecting. Perhaps he cared more about Becker’s reaction than he had allowed himself to consider.

“You’re asking me to come with you? To one of your fancy functions with your fancy friends?” The emphasis Becker put on ‘fancy’ was likely more amusing than he was aware, considering the poshness of his own expensive, public school accent.

“I don’t know that I would call most of them my friends, exactly.”

“I’ll probably embarrass you. I’m not good at that sort of thing; I’m terrible at small-talk and easily bored.”

“You’ll be fine. Smile charmingly and pay everyone a lot of compliments. I think you’ll be quite popular, actually.” To be perfectly frank, James was counting on that. Becker had become something of a celebrity in the days since the ARC had gone public, much to his immense displeasure. It could only be to the ARC’s benefit to parade him in front of people of influence, reminding them of the sort of handsome, heroic soldiers who risked their lives on a daily basis to keep England safe.

Becker narrowed his eyes. “Wait a moment. I’m going as your arm candy, aren’t I?”

James smiled and trailed his fingers down Becker’s jaw briefly. “Ah, you caught on quicker than I’d expected.”

Becker sniffed, his nose up in the air and his arms crossed over his chest. “We’re not even married yet and already I feel used.”

“Don’t sulk, petal, you should be flattered to be my trophy wife.”

“Don’t patronise me, at least let me be your trophy husband.”

“Trophy husband,” James agreed. “Look pretty, be polite, and the evening will go splendidly.”

“Well, I suppose I could be persuaded. If my reward is very nice.”

James let his fingers run teasingly over Becker’s arm. “Play your cards right and it will be very nice indeed.”

“Perhaps I could do with a bit of an incentive.” Becker’s tone was hopeful.

“Pushy,” James said. Still, he moved in close, pressing tiny kisses to the side of Becker’s face and trailing his hand down, down, while Becker sighed and swayed into him. James let his fingers dip into Becker’s waistband while he bit at Becker’s neck, just on the wrong side of careful. He undid the zip so he could push his hand in farther, palming Becker through his underwear and feeling the warm weight of him.

Becker was murmuring curses into James’ hair, digging his fingers into James’ waist, impatient and wanting. “James,” he said, voice edging into a whine. He canted his hips into James’ hand.

James kissed Becker’s mouth, hot and wet, hiding his smile. He pulled his hand back out of Becker’s trousers and smirked up at Becker, making as though to slide down Becker’s front onto his knees on the floor, but at the last second he stopped and drew himself to his full height, stepping backward.

“There you go, sweetheart. Plenty of incentive.” James turned around and went out of the room.

There was silence for a while as Becker presumably stood in slack-jawed confusion, mind fuzzy from aborted lust.

Then Becker called out, “James! That’s not fair, you fucking bastard! You can’t just leave me!”

“Oh, I think you’ll find I can, pet,” James said, and sat down with his book.

-

The night of the dinner, James and Becker were caught at the ARC later than they had planned, owing to an incursion in the living room of an elderly lady’s flat. Said elderly lady had been quite unperturbed by the Pleistocene mammals crawling over her sofa, though her cat hadn’t approved much.

In any case, they were rushed enough that James had little time to pay attention to what Becker was doing, simply moving around each other as they got ready. Occasionally James would ask, “Have you seen my cufflinks?” or Becker would brush casually against James’ back as he moved, but that was about the extent of their interaction.

As James straightened his tie in the mirror, he watched Becker’s reflection next to him. James always forgot how nicely Becker cleaned up. When he wasn’t in his combat blacks, he tended to dress casually, jeans and t-shirts and that leather jacket James was possibly even fonder of than Becker himself was.

Seeing him in a dinner jacket was enough to make James want to throw Becker onto the bed and have his filthy way with him, bugger the dinner.

“Tie my tie for me?” Becker asked, holding the bow tie out in his hand. The wicked tilt of his lips made James think that Becker was only too aware of the effect he was having.

“It’s a little bit embarrassing that you can’t do it yourself,” James said even as he looped the tie around Becker’s neck. “I hope you’re embarrassed. I’m embarrassed for you.”

“Who says I can’t? Perhaps I simply wanted an excuse for you to dress me.”

“That’s a little bit embarrassing, too.”

Becker only laughed and let James finish, his eyes focused on the quick, steady movements of James’ fingers.

When he was done, James allowed himself the small indulgence of running his hands down Becker’s lapels under the guise of making sure all was perfect, when in reality he was only enjoying himself. Yes, Becker would certainly be quite popular indeed.

“I hope you realise the entire time we’re there, I’m going to be thinking about peeling you out of this, sweetie,” Becker said.

“As well you should be,” James agreed, checking himself one last time in the mirror. “This tux cost a fortune, so it had damn well better look good.”

“No need to worry on that front,” Becker said, but there was an undercurrent of tension in his voice.

James turned to observe him, but didn’t say anything.

Becker was smoothing his hair down. Again. “James, I just want to be clear. Am I going as your colleague, or your date?”

James leaned up and pressed a kiss to Becker’s intent frown. “Both.”

“I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse,” Becker said, but he was very faintly smiling anyway.

-

“You know,” Becker said, gazing around at the tastefully decorated hall and the glamorously dressed guests. His expression was equal parts admiring and stunned, like a tourist faced with the Egyptian pyramids on his first trip out of his home country. “I wasn’t exactly underprivileged growing up, but I feel decidedly shabby just standing here.”

“That’s all right,” James said, smiling and nodding at the woman who passed him. “As long as you don’t look shabby.”

Becker tugged at his bow tie, like a reflex. “I hope not. I’ll admit my outfit may not get much use, but it cost me a pretty penny at the time.”

James could confirm that Becker looked anything but shabby, but watching him squirm was amusing all the same. The tux was, it had to be said, a trifle out of fashion, but Becker certainly made it work. He could probably make anything work, with his runway-ready face and his perfect military bearing and the sometimes irritating touch of pride that came through even when he was nervous. Perhaps especially when he was nervous.

Bravado. Becker was positively filled with bravado.

Inside the hall there were long tables set up, spread with more food than could possibly be necessary. Finger food, mostly, with a large array of desserts. The glassware was exquisite, James had to admit.

“At least you won’t have to worry about using the proper fork.”

Becker turned wide eyes to James. “I hadn’t even thought about that!”

“Don’t worry, I had,” James said, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. “If this had been a proper dinner, there would have been lessons, believe me.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Becker said. He took a sip of his own champagne, clearly counting his luck that no lessons had been necessary.

“Ah, James!”

James turned, the booming voice recognisable as well as welcome. “Harry,” he said, shaking the man’s hand. “It’s been too long.”

“You’re too shut up in that ARC of yours,” Harry said, a smile crossing his craggy features. His eyes fell to Becker. “This is your man from the ARC?”

“Captain Hilary Becker,” Becker said, introducing himself.

“Pleasure. Harry Stevens, Home Office.” Harry shook Becker’s hand vigorously and then said, “Terribly sorry to run off, but my wife’s giving me the eye, you know how it is.” He winked. “Do enjoy the party. Or the food, anyway.”

Becker was staring after him. “Does he know about us?”

James squeezed Becker’s arm. “There is very little Harry doesn’t know. Now, please, go and mingle for a bit.”

“By myself?” Becker’s eyes looked huge.

“Only for a minute. I need a private word, won’t be a moment.” When Becker retained his deer in the headlights expression, James added, “Hils, my love, if you’re frightened of the metaphorical sharks who frequent these things, just find the wives. They’ll adore you, I promise.”

Becker scowled and skulked off, his back ramrod straight like he was on parade.

Of course, it was impossible to ever find someone without a whole stretch of someone elses finding you, and James’ ‘moment’ became a lot longer than a moment. He hoped Becker had found some of the wives.

-

James’ enjoyment of these events entirely rested upon the company he was able to keep. Unfortunately, the group he found himself with at the moment wouldn’t have been his first choice.

“You were quite the hero of the hour during that debacle, weren’t you, James?” Collins’ lip was curling over his teeth in a way that drew attention to the lie in his polite smile. “After you’d slunk back to the Home Office in disgrace such a short time before.”

“The credit lies with my team, of course,” James demurred.

“Yes, the famous ARC team,” Morse said. “Their faces are splashed all over the news. I thought I saw one of them earlier.” He glanced around. “Did you bring one with you?”

“Would you like an introduction?”

“That would be splendid.”

“Lovely,” James said. Well, it was only fair - Becker was there to be paraded around, after all. However… Perhaps there was a bit of fun to be had. He was feeling quite reckless. “Perhaps you might care to meet my fiancé.”

Mrs Collins, who was nearly as insufferable as her husband, said, “Your fiancé? James, I had no idea you were getting remarried! It’s been so long since Agatha… Well. You simply must introduce us. Where is the lovely woman?”

“Oh, around, no doubt.” James took out his mobile and hit the speed dial for Becker. “Hilary, darling, where are you?”

“I’m having a wonderful chat with some absolutely lovely ladies, sweetie.”

James could hear the ladies in question giggling in the background and resisted rolling his eyes. “Do you think you could tear yourself away for a moment? I’d love to be able to introduce my fiancé to a few old friends.”

“I’m sure you would, honey,” Becker said, a grin in his voice. “I’ll be over in a minute.”

“Perfect. See you in a moment, Hilary, my love.”

Collins’ lip was curling again, no doubt at James’ horrendous verbal display of affection. James wouldn’t have been surprised if Mr and Mrs Collins kept separate beds, if not entirely separate bedrooms. Of course, Collins mostly kept to his mistress’ bed, so it hardly mattered.

James sensed Becker’s arrival a moment before he slid his arm around James’ waist. “Oh, there you are, darling. My fiancé, Captain Hilary Becker, ARC head of security.”

Becker smiled graciously at the gobsmacked faces in front of him. “What a pleasure it is to meet James’ friends. I had been so looking forward for the opportunity to accompany him to one of these marvelous dinners. Talks about them all the time, it was enough to make me jealous.”

An awkward silence lingered before Eleanor stepped forward and held out her hand. “Eleanor Smith, Captain. I’m so glad to make your acquaintance.” Her eyes were amused and a smirk hovered at the corners of her mouth, bumping her up a few notches in James’ estimation.

Becker pulled out the charm, kissing the back of her hand like she was a princess. “Not as glad as I am,” he said.

Eleanor’s smirk became a bit more like a smile. “Yes, James, I can see why you’d want to hold on to this one.”

James squeezed Becker’s middle. “I’m terribly lucky to have him.”

“Only half as lucky as I am to have him,” Becker said, aiming a soppy smile at them all.

James wanted to laugh but restrained himself, instead maintaining his practiced mask of blandness.

Collins looked as though he wanted to gag, gingerly offering his hand to Becker. “Thank you for your service, Captain,” he managed to grit out. He dropped Becker’s hand as soon as possible.

Mission accomplished.

-

When they arrived home, Becker threw himself dramatically onto the sofa, making James wince at the blatant disregard for his tux. “Is this what Agatha had to deal with all those years she was married to you? I don’t know how she did it, I’m going to have to ring her. I need advice.”

James placed himself more carefully onto the cushion beside Becker. “You needn’t have worried; you were exactly the sort of success I had imagined you would be.”

Becker peeked out at James from beneath his arm. “Was I?”

“While I would prefer not to inflate your already over-large ego, yes, you were, and I think you know it.”

“Well, maybe,” Becker said, angling himself the other way so that he was now sprawling into James’ space. “So… I was very good?”

James narrowed his eyes, fully understanding where this was headed. “I suppose that’s an accurate statement, yes.”

“When I’m good, I deserve nice things.”

“Sometimes.”

“And you already promised me my reward would be very nice.”

“I suppose I did.”

Becker was leaning in, his breath warm over the side of James’ face and his hand resting insolently high up on James’ thigh. “I’d like to cash in now, James.”

James pressed himself forwards, moving Becker back against the cushions. “Luckily I keep my promises,” he said, pulling gently at Becker’s tie. Becker wasn’t the only one who had been spending the entire night thinking about peeling someone out of his tux.

“Lucky for you, you mean,” Becker breathed, rocking his hips up and sliding his hands around James’ waist.

James softly kissed the line of Becker’s jaw, feeling Becker’s leg insinuate itself between his. Well. Lucky for them both, perhaps.


	4. Chapter 4

Getting married was a lot more work than Becker had anticipated. He had mistakenly thought (or hoped, really) that he wouldn’t need to do much more than set a date, send out a few invitations (or, actually, ask a few people at work), buy a tux and a ring, and show up on time.

Oh, how naive he had been.

There were the rings, for instance. Surely purchasing a set of wedding rings should have been simple.

It wasn’t. Apparently there were choices. Types of material, design, engraving options... And here Becker had thought all you did was ask for wedding rings, they took your sizes, and you got two plain gold bands.

The woman at the counter was _very_ enthusiastic. She seemed to think he and Lester were precious, though she had never set eyes on them before, and wanted to ensure they got _exactly_ what they wanted, even if they couldn’t get legally married like heterosexual couples could, and wasn’t that a shame, she knew it would change soon, and...

It went on like that. Lester seemed to catch on that Becker was overwhelmed and smoothly took over the entire conversation. Becker wasn’t entirely certain, but he thought they might have ordered two simple gold bands with their initials engraved on the insides. _H.J.B._ on the inside of Lester’s ring and _J.P.L._ on the inside of Becker’s ring.

The woman had liked that touch of romanticism very much. Becker had been concerned she was actually going to cry and wondered whether she got that invested in every couple she saw. It didn’t seem healthy. Of course, she had also let slip a few things that indicated she’d recently been through a messy break-up, which went a far way towards explaining why she was so emotional.

The rings were only a part of it, though. There was the music, and the cake, and the table arrangements, and the food, and all the things Becker had never wanted to think about. This was precisely why he’d agreed to let his mother host everything. But she and his sisters kept asking for his opinion and when he inevitably didn’t have one, they asked him to talk to Lester about it.

Lester, of course, always had an opinion. That only made Becker feel worse, like he didn’t care about his own wedding. On one such occasion he must have looked particularly miserable because Lester patted his arm comfortingly and said, “Don’t worry, dear, we’ll just imagine that I’m the overexcited bride-to-be and you’re the bored prospective husband who just wants to be done with it.”

“Was that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Doesn’t it? I expect it’s the only time you won’t be cast as the wife in our relationship.”

“Ha ha,” Becker said, and pretended like it was okay so he wouldn’t look like an idiot.

It wasn’t okay, though.

-

Becker’s mobile was playing the Imperial March. It meant it was either Lily or his mum. Inevitably it was going to be about the wedding.

“You can’t ignore them forever,” Lester yelled from the other room.

“Can’t I?” Becker wondered, but he sighed and picked up anyway. Chances were they’d only try Lester next.

“You were on the news again tonight,” Lily began conversationally.

Oh, fuck it. “I was?”

“It looked quite dangerous, actually. Mum mustn’t have seen it or I’m sure she would have rung. I expect the video will be a big hit on YouTube. Very heroic.”

“Bugger.” Becker hated it when he ended up on YouTube, it always meant the lads would be giving him stick for ages. On one memorable occasion, Connor had set up a video to play on loop on a big screen in the hub until Becker had threatened to shoot his laptop with an EMD. Connor knew better than to test him and that had never happened again.

“My brother, the celebrity,” Lily teased. “I’m so proud. I tell everyone about you. ‘Captain Becker, yes, that’s my big brother!’”

“Piss off. What did you really want, anyway?”

“I wanted to ask you something about your wedding.”

“Of course you did.”

“In civil ceremonies it’s customary to write your own vows, isn’t it?”

“I really wouldn’t know. I haven’t had one before.”

“Hils,” Lily said, disapproval echoing in her voice.

“What do you want me to say? I don’t know, I suppose a lot of people do, I hadn’t thought about it. I’m sure there’s a script to follow if we want, just like at a regular wedding.”

“Oh, you couldn’t possibly.”

“Sorry?”

“The vows are the most important part,” Lily insisted. “It’s where you get to say what you really feel to each other. When Mark and I--”

“I remember,” Becker said, cutting her off. Lily’s vows had been beautiful and she’d read every single draft of them to Becker beforehand. Every. Single. One.

“I’m not trying to be difficult, I’m really not, I just want your ceremony to be perfect.”

“To be honest, I’m not sure it’s the ceremony that matters so much.”

“Well, you can’t just blow it off.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“Hils, please, listen a second. Please? I want you to think about it, that’s all, because saying our own vows meant something to Mark and me. It was special, it was the two of us being open and honest for just one moment in front of the people we loved the most. Can you understand that?”

“I suppose,” Becker said, though the whole idea was slightly horrifying. He pictured himself standing in front of his family and everyone from the ARC, trying to stammer out half-arsed declarations of love, and thought he’d rather shoot himself in the foot.

There were muffled words in the background, clearly Mark’s voice. Becker made out something to the effect of, “Leave the poor guy alone and let him do what he wants. It’s his wedding, Lils.”

“Be quiet, Mark, no one asked for your opinion,” Lily said, not bothering to cover the mouthpiece. To Becker, she said, “Just promise me you’ll think about it, will you? Talk it over with James. He’s been married, I’m sure he’ll understand what I mean.”

Becker highly doubted that, as he couldn’t imagine Lester ever voluntarily deviating from the ‘I do’s, but to get Lily to drop it he said, “I promise.”

“All right. You know I’ll find out if you’re lying just to shut me up, don’t you?”

Becker sighed. He knew all too well.

-

Becker only waited a day to deal with the vows situation. He thought that was rather good of him. Lester was sitting on the sofa, watching a news programme, while Becker leaned nearly horizontal across his chest, faffing about on the internet. “Lily thinks we should write our own vows,” he said. Direct was always best.

Lester had his arm curled around Becker’s front, his fingers loosely tangled in Becker’s shirt. “Really? That sounds horrifying.”

Becker laughed. “Doesn’t it? But apparently it’s what all the gays do.”

“Is it? Well, I suppose it’s lucky we aren’t as fashionable as all that.”

“She’s going to make a fuss about it, I know she will. She wrote her own vows.”

“And Mark?”

“Yes, though as I recall, he was distinctly less enthusiastic about the idea.”

Chuckling, Lester said, “I imagine he would have been. If she gets too irritating, I’ll talk to her for you. How’s that?”

Becker pushed himself up so he could kiss Lester’s temple. “My hero. You don’t mind, then?”

“‘Til death do us part’ worked well enough for me before. Or, it didn’t, actually, but I can’t imagine the result would have been any different if I’d read a self-composed poem.”

“Wouldn’t you write me a poem, sugarplum?”

“I most certainly would not.” Lester paused. “No, you’d be worth a song, at least.”

Intriguing. “With the guitar?”

“Obviously. I expect it would traumatise the children.”

Becker snorted. “If you’re looking to get rid of Henry, that would certainly do it.”

“Yes, I’ll have to keep that in mind for when he’s being particularly insufferable.”

“We could really go all-out. Mum’s got the piano already, so you could do yours with the guitar and I’ll do mine with the piano. Plus, I sing badly enough to scare away small animals, so it would be particularly effective.”

“Sounds like a perfect plan, pet,” Lester said, patting Becker’s knee. He turned back to the TV.

Becker put the laptop aside and leaned against Lester’s shoulder. Joking aside, Becker had this sort of knotted up, queasy feeling in his gut, the same feeling he got whenever he thought about the wedding. He wondered if Lester was actually bothered and only covering it up like he always did, because Becker knew he had the right to be. “You aren’t upset?”

“Why would I be?” Lester sounded genuinely curious, not like he was feigning it.

Becker chewed on his lip, straightening so that he wasn’t touching Lester any more. “You don’t think that I... that I don’t love you enough, because I can’t even write my own vows?”

“Hils, frankly, _I_ don’t love _you_ enough to write my own vows.”

Becker laughed, mostly because he thought he was supposed to. He didn’t actually feel much like laughing.

“What is all this about?”

“Nothing.”

Lester raised an eyebrow.

“It’s just... Lily made me feel a bit guilty, that’s all.”

“You shouldn’t do something only because someone else thinks you should, or because someone else wants you to. It needs to come from you.”

“This entire wedding is turning into what someone else wants. If I’d had any idea how complicated it was all going to be, what an ordeal it was going to turn into, maybe I wouldn’t have even proposed in the first place.”

Oh. __

_Shit._

Lester’s face was carefully neutral. “Do you want to marry me, Hils?”

“Of course I do,” Becker said, but he was fairly certain there wasn’t enough back-tracking in the world to make this okay.

“Are you sure? Are you sure it isn’t just what you think you should do?”

“I fucking know what I want, James, I’m not a child.”

“In my experience, children always know exactly what they want,” Lester said, but took the verbal equivalent of a step back at what he saw on Becker’s face. “Yes, not the point. The point is, a wedding, as you’ve clearly realised, takes what is private and makes it very, very public. A wedding is expected. It makes people happy. But is it going to make you happy, Hils? Because I’m afraid I don’t see the point otherwise.”

“It makes you happy.”

“Perhaps. But I’ve already been married, darling, and the wedding isn’t everything.”

“But it’s what you _want.”_

“I think that if that’s what you think, that the wedding is what I care about, then you haven’t been paying attention at all,” Lester said, and he got up before Becker could do anything more than watch him leave.


	5. Chapter 5

If there was one thing James remembered about his wedding to Agatha, it was the stress. He remembered the way their tempers had been constantly on edge, worse and worse the closer they got to the day. He remembered how they had snapped at each other at the slightest provocation and it had never been about them, not really.

He had thought it would be different this time around. He had thought it would be different with Becker.

James hoped that he had mellowed in the intervening years and he hoped that he had learned something from doing this once before. He certainly was a different person from the man he’d been with Agatha, and Becker was certainly different from Agatha. It also wasn’t meant to be a ceremony quite on par with the scale of his first wedding.

The prospective in-laws weren’t quite the same either, thankfully. Agatha’s parents had liked the idea of him but they had never really liked _him._

The stress, unfortunately, was exactly the same. There were different things to be stressed about, to be sure, but the end result was the same. He also didn’t have Agatha and her parents arranging most of the thing. Instead he had Becker, who seemed not to care at all.

And that was fine. He hadn’t expected Becker to care. It was just... He hadn’t expected Becker to be quite so disinterested. It wasn’t a nice feeling because it was hard not to take it personally, even if logically he knew he shouldn’t.

The issue was, well, the same issue it had always been. James didn’t know if Becker was _in_ this the way James was. The proposal should have solved everything, but it hadn’t. He supposed it was silly to think that one thing could solve all their problems - or perhaps it was silly to continue worrying even after Becker had _proposed_ to him.

He couldn’t help how he felt, however.

So he was concerned. He was stressed. He was on edge.

And then Becker had said, _maybe I wouldn’t have even proposed in the first place._

So, yes. That essentially confirmed all of James’ worst and most hidden fears and he wasn’t sure how else he was supposed to take it. Particularly when Becker’s only defense seemed to be that James wanted to get married, so they should get married.

If there was one thing James absolutely, positively did not want, it was for Becker to stay with him out of pity. To be James’ because he thought that was what James wanted, not because it was what he wanted. Because he should. Not because he wanted to.

That was why when Becker approached him and said, “About the wedding,” James may have slightly overreacted. Just a wee bit.

“I don’t care about the bloody wedding!” he said in a voice that wasn’t particularly well-suited to indoor environments. “I never have.”

Becker looked somewhat flabbergasted at James’ response, but he only said, “Then what do--”

“It isn’t about the _wedding._ It’s about knowing that you want to wake up next to me every morning for the rest of our lives, knowing that you’ll be there when my kids throw up on my shoes and help me clean it up after, knowing that you’ll sit through my threats and my shouting and still want to take me home. That’s what I want, but I don’t know if it’s what you want.”

“I asked you to marryme, James. What did you think that meant?”

“I don’t know what to think. I never do. That’s entirely the problem.”

“If that’s the case, then we have a much bigger problem than whether or not to go through with a wedding.” Becker pushed his hands through his hair. “Christ, James. What do you think I’ve been doing all this time?”

James said, hushed and subdued, “I think you’ve loved me the best you can, but maybe that’s not enough.”

“So, what? It’s not good enough for you any more? I’m not good enough for you?”

Becker’s face was too difficult to look at so James stared at his toes instead. That felt too much like weakness, though, and too unfair to Becker, so he forced his gaze upwards again. “The problem is that _you_ think that, because God knows I never have.”

“Fine, then. I’m fucked up, I’ve never denied that. You never seemed to mind that I didn’t deserve you.”

“It isn’t about _deserving._ Maybe no one really _deserves_ someone else. Maybe it’s me who doesn’t deserve you.”

“How could you even--”

James held up a hand. “It doesn’t _matter,_ that’s the point. I love you, and I’m sorry that you’ve never felt like you deserve to be happy, because you do. I want you to be happy with me but sometimes I wonder if you can be.”

“You’re acting like none of it ever mattered, like nothing we were or we did _mattered,_ and that isn’t fair. Just because this sodding wedding has me stressed--”

“I think we can both agree it’s more than stress.”

“Okay, fine, but it’s the wedding, that’s it! I don’t know why you keep making it into something more, like it’s you, like I’ve changed my mind about you, and I never have.” Becker’s tone was pleading James to understand.

He wanted to, but he wasn’t sure he could. “Because I never know what you’re thinking! You sat there and told me you wished you hadn’t proposed, and what am I supposed to think? How did you expect me to take it?”

“I shouldn’t have ever said that.”

“But you did.”

Becker stood there silently and James wanted... he didn’t know what he wanted, but whatever it was, Becker couldn’t give it to him.

“I thought... I thought that when you asked me to marry you, it would fix everything,” James said. “But it didn’t. It didn’t because everything’s still the same, you’re still the same. I still don’t know what it is you want from me, what you want out of this.”

“I asked you to marry me because I wanted _you_ ,” Becker said, holding his weight forward like he wanted to move closer but didn’t quite dare. “That’s all I meant by it, I just wanted you and I wanted you to know that I wanted you.”

“Then why do I still feel like you don’t know what you want?”

“How the fuck should I know? That’s your own issues.”

“That isn’t fair.”

Becker let out a soft exhale of breath. “I don’t know what to say, I don’t know what you want me to do. Just tell me.”

“Do you want me? Do you really?” James asked. “Always and forever, just you and me? When I’m old? When it’s difficult, and when we fight, and when you don’t have a bloody clue why I feel the way I do?”

“I’ve already said I do.”

“That’s not an answer. You aren’t even thinking about it.”

“I have thought about it! Sometimes it feels like I don’t think about anything else,” Becker said, raising his voice. “Fine, then, here’s my answer. You know that I want you, I’ve said it a million bloody times.”

That was hardly an answer, either, but it seemed like it was all James was going to get. “Then you can have me,” he said, “but you need to decide. If you don’t want to go through with this wedding, then we won’t, but you need to give me _something._ We can get married or we can exchange rings here where no one’s watching, but I can’t keep doing this, Hils. I need to know that you want the same things I do. I won’t let you continue to jerk me around.”

Becker’s face was set and still as rock. “What does that mean?”

“You know what it means.”

“Are you giving me an ultimatum, James? Is that what we’ve come to?”

“If we have, it’s never what I wanted. I’m going out. I need to get some air,” James said, turning away. He slipped into a pair of shoes by the door and grabbed his keys and his jacket. He thought he might take a walk and see where it led him.

(Every step led him away from Becker, and that hurt more than he thought it would.)

James had only made it partway down the corridor before there was the sound of a door opening and Becker saying, “James!”

James stopped and turned around because Becker sounded so horribly desperate it made something inside him ache. This was never what he had wanted.

Becker was standing in the middle of the corridor, his face drawn and unhappy and his shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave me.”

It might have been relief that coursed through James, or it might have been trepidation. He hadn’t wanted this to go on, to spend the night and longer with so much bad feeling between them, but he didn’t want Becker to simply relent without thinking, either. That would solve nothing.

James took a step closer to Becker without fully intending to, and then another. “I won’t leave you.” He moved closer again until he was standing a breath apart from Becker and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to simply lean forward, wrapping his arms around his lover. God, he was weak when it came to Becker.

Becker melted into him, hiding his face in the crook of James’ neck. “I don’t want to fight any more, so can we just... not?”

“I can’t pretend it never happened.” Even if he might have wanted to.

“I’m not asking you to. All I’m asking is that we stop, that you forgive me for being such an idiot. I never meant it, what I said. I’m not sorry I proposed to you. I’d do it again, right now, even knowing that getting married is harder than I thought it would be.”

“Would you?”

Becker’s body felt too warm, like all the emotion he was feeling was seeping out of his skin in waves of heat. “I would, yes, of course I would. I want to marry you, I do. I’m sorry I keep fucking things up, but we should get married.”

“Is that what you really want?”

“More than anything. Please, please believe me. James… When I think about not seeing your face when I wake up, not having you in my arms, never hearing you call me Hils or even those God awful endearments, I… It makes me feel sick. I want to make it real, official. I want everyone to know that you’re mine and I’m yours. That’s what I want.”

James could feel Becker’s hand between them, the way he slid it up to rest on James’ stomach, over his scar, the way he did when he was upset or anxious. James wasn’t sure Becker even realised that he did it.

He breathed in, held it, and let it go. “That’s what I want, too, so I suppose it’s lucky we have a wedding on the schedule.”


	6. Chapter 6

Though Becker couldn’t decide whether it was only what he expected or not, after their fight, things were easier. Becker felt like he understood more where Lester stood, what Lester wanted, and he hoped that the reverse was true as well.

He thought he better understood what _he_ wanted, too.

(Lester. Just Lester, to be his in all the ways he could be. He wanted Lester to be his and for him to be Lester’s; he wanted to look Lester in the eyes and know that Lester believed that.)

In any case, the wedding, officially, was on. It was still stressful and overwhelming and Becker still didn’t know what he was doing half the time, but the day grew inexorably closer and Becker did his best to keep himself afloat. When Lester was stressed he tended to be touchy and more sarcastic, quick to snap. Now, though, he was simply quieter than usual, subdued, but at night he fit himself around Becker in bed and held him close.

Most of the time, Becker just wished he could fast-forward through this part. He wished he could skip the lead-up and the wedding itself and just go to the part after, the part where he would have Lester for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, of course, that was impossible.

“Remind me again why you’re here,” Becker said as he adjusted his cuffs, looking at Connor’s reflection in the mirror.

“Because of my impeccable sense of style?”

Becker arched an eyebrow, eyes running over Connor’s current ensemble. Connor tended not to stick together quite as many mismatched articles of clothing now as he used to, but he certainly wasn’t the sort of person Becker was looking to emulate.

“Okay, so you’ve never agreed with that sentiment. Um… because I’ve already been married and had to pick out one of these things myself?”

“From what I recall, Abby had more say in what you wore than you did.” Not to mention this was only a fitting - the suit had been commissioned ages ago. Becker had never had a bespoke suit before. It felt positively indulgent.

“Right, that’s true. Because without me, you’d be here with your sisters?”

Ah, yes. That was it exactly.

Connor came over and smoothed Becker’s lapels. “I probably shouldn’t admit this out loud, but looking at you in this suit kind of makes me feel like I might be a little bit gay.”

Becker knocked Connor’s hands away. “Thanks for the compliment, I think. You’d better get the tailor back in here, he’ll want to check the fit.”

“Right.” Connor shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Er, Becker? I know we don’t, uh, do this, but… you know you could talk to me, if you wanted? About… about anything. Lester, or… or anything.”

Becker kept looking at himself in the mirror, avoiding Connor’s eyes. “Because you’re such an expert?”

“I didn’t say that. I just meant… I know how hard it can be. And I’m your friend, aren’t I? I want this to work for you, for both of you. So, you know, if you ever wanted to, I would listen.” Connor scurried away, presumably in search of the tailor.

“Thank you,” Becker said quietly, when he was sure Connor wouldn’t hear him. He was fairly certain it would take nothing short of the end of the world for Becker to actually take Connor up on his offer, but… He could appreciate the sentiment behind it, anyway.

Still… Becker got his mobile out of the pocket of his jeans and tapped out a quick text to Lester. __

_Connor just told me I can tell him all about you and our problems any time._

Lester responded in a moment with, _Remind me to give him more work to do._

Becker chuckled and went to let the tailor get entirely too up close and personal with his inseam.

-

“Becker.”

Becker blinked, shaking himself out of his reverie. He realised he’d been staring at the same block of text for at least ten minutes. He looked towards the doorway of his office. “Yes?”

Jess moved closer, her heels clicking firmly on the floor. “Are you okay?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve just seemed… distracted lately. I wondered if anything was the matter.”

“Oh, you know. Been busy. Dinosaurs trying to eat people, sisters demanding my attention, moody sort-of-stepchildren, trying to marry my boyfriend. The usual.”

Jess’ mouth quirked. “There isn’t much about your life that’s ‘usual’.”

“Well, for me it is.” Which was sad, really.

“Fair enough.” Jess perched on the corner of Becker’s desk, meeting his eyes firmly. “Is everything okay with Lester?”

Becker stopped himself from sighing. “You’re only asking because you already know the answer.”

“I am brilliant,” she confirmed, but then said more seriously, “Are you having problems? I expect this must be a stressful time for you both.”

“Sure, but… It’s fine, Jess. Really.”

Both Jess’ expression and her silence were extremely doubtful.

Becker gave up. “We might have… had a row? A big one? But I promise, it really is fine now. Got some things in the open and it’s better now.” He hoped.

“I hate it when you fight. I knew you must have done.”

She didn’t hate it nearly as much as Becker did, and that was a fact. “We’re going to fight sometimes, all couples do. But we always make up in the end.”

Jess had drawn her lip between her teeth, worrying it slightly. “But you’re not… I mean, you’re going to get married.”

“Yeah, Jess, of course. Of course we are.”

Her relief seemed to slide through her visibly, shoulders relaxing. “Oh, good. Because I already bought my dress and it’s _fabulous._ ”

Becker smiled. “I suppose you bought new shoes as well.”

“Well, obviously, can’t have a new dress without new shoes,” Jess said, like he might be daft.

But Becker had grown up in a house with four women. He knew how these things worked. “No, that would be ridiculous,” he agreed.

-

“I want to play darts,” Connor announced, draining the last of his beer and slamming it down on the table, perhaps slightly overenthusiastically. He earned a few questioning looks.

“Haven’t you learned by now, Connor?” Becker asked.

“Not against you. Matt?” Connor addressed him hopefully.

“I don’t get the point of darts,” Matt said, but then he shrugged. “Sure, fine, I guess.”

“Awesome,” Connor said, dragging Matt by the shirtsleeve.

“He’ll be wanting to try pool next,” Lester said. “Imagine trying to explain the point of _that_ to Matt.”

“Isn’t the point of it ogling people’s bums when they lean across the table?” Becker said.

“You’ve clearly never seen the sort of men who play it at my club.”

“That’s because you’ve never let me in your club.”

“You’d find it frightfully dull, pet.”

“I expect I could think of a few ways we could liven it up,” Becker started, and then got interrupted by Danny.

“This is the worst stag do I’ve ever had the misfortune to witness,” he pronounced.

“So sorry,” Lester said, sipping his beer.

“He’s not sorry,” Becker clarified. “I’m not either.” He had actually just been congratulating himself again on undercutting Danny’s every attempt at throwing one for them himself.

“It went wrong the second you decided to do it jointly,” Danny said, as if anyone had actually asked. “It’s not right. There’s supposed to be strippers and bad decisions and things you never tell each other about. That’s the whole point!”

Lester looked at Becker. “Darling, I’m afraid I’ve got to go and blow someone in the toilet for old time’s sake. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Course not, sweetie. I quite like the look of that bloke in the corner, I’ll just pop over and see if he’d like to have a quickie in the meantime.”

“Lovely,” Lester said, his gaze sliding over in the direction of Becker’s. “Hmm. Nice choice.”

“I thought so.”

“I was thinking of him, myself.”

Becker glanced at a solitary blond near the end of the bar. “You can do better. Try two seats over.”

“Ah, yes. Bit like Daniel Craig, don’t you think?”

“I’m ashamed to know you,” Danny said, and went to order a round of shots.

-

They were getting married on a Saturday. The night before, Becker came home an hour or so before Lester did.

When he heard the door, Becker was sprawled on the floor with the diictodons, Nancy perched on his stomach while she attempted to nibble his shirt (she never won this game, but she was determined) and Sid chewing on one of the puppy chew toys they’d bought him.

Lester walked in, his expression betraying nothing.

“Evening,” Becker said, as dignified as he could manage while Nancy rolled over to bare her tummy in the hopes of a belly rub.

Sid trundled over to Lester, saying hello in his own way, and Lester knelt down to pat his head.

“Want to join us?” Becker offered.

“On the floor? No, thank you.”

“They’re in quite a cuddly mood at the moment. You might enjoy yourself. Besides, there’s me.”

“I think not,” Lester said, and walked past them.

“I don’t think he likes us as much as we thought he did,” Becker said to Sid and Nancy.

Sid chirruped and bumped his head against Becker’s knee.

“It must be your fault. He’s probably still angry over those shoes you chewed on last week.”

Sid’s approximation of an innocent expression wasn’t terribly innocent at all, particularly when he proceeded to nip at Becker’s jeans.

Becker picked Nancy up off his chest and put her on the floor, at which point she and Sid started tussling with each other. “I’m onto you,” Becker told Sid, and then went after Lester.

He was undressing in the bedroom, carefully hanging up his suit as he went. Becker slouched in the doorway, taking advantage of the view. Though he must have been aware of Becker’s presence, Lester didn’t say anything or acknowledge him in any way, just got on with what he was doing.

When he’d finished, Becker stepped inside, looping his arms around Lester’s waist. “May I kiss you hello, Becker? Why, yes, James, you may, thought you’d never ask.”

“You’re insufferable,” Lester said, but he went along willingly, lips parting. He scraped one hand up the back of Becker’s neck to twine into the strands of his hair and pressed the other against the small of Becker’s back, fisting it loosely into Becker’s shirt.

“Hello,” Becker murmured against Lester’s mouth.

“Hello,” Lester said, and moved away. “I was thinking perhaps I ought to ring your mother, and--”

“Stop,” Becker said. “I assure you there is absolutely nothing for us to do but bring ourselves to my mum’s tomorrow. And the rings. We’d better not forget that.”

“But--”

Becker strode forward and pressed a finger to Lester’s mouth. “Stop it. Believe me, she’ll have everything well in hand, and should there be an unforeseen crisis, she’ll let us know after she’s solved it. Not to be trifled with, my mum.”

Lester sighed, an exhale of breath against Becker’s hand, and Becker moved it. “No, I know that. Of course you must be right.”

“Good,” Becker said, and kissed Lester again, in what he hoped was a comforting sort of way. It certainly made him feel better. “Now, let’s have dinner. I didn’t feel like cooking so I got one of those already roasted chickens, it’s just been warming in the oven.”

“Yes, I thought I smelled it,” Lester said, and submitted to Becker’s suggestion.

They ate and then spent a lazy evening on the sofa, mostly, with the TV and their laptops. Lester was quiet and Becker didn’t try to force conversation. Truth be told he felt the fluttering of nerves himself every time he thought of tomorrow, but it was easy enough to push aside.

He let Sid and Nancy up on the sofa with them, letting them curl up in a warm ball between him and Lester. Lester allowed this with nothing more than his well-practiced put-upon expression, and every now and then he let his hand drift over to stroke their backs.

It was early yet, but Lester said, “I think an early night would be a good idea. God knows what tomorrow will be like.”

“Filled with perfectly behaved and completely sober guests, I’ve no doubt,” Becker said.

Lester smiled faintly. “Yes, no doubt.”

Becker followed Lester into the bathroom and then into the bedroom. He climbed into bed after him and pressed himself around Lester’s body, breathing in the scent of Lester’s hair. “I think we’re supposed to sleep separately the night before our wedding.”

“That’s terribly coy for you.”

“I’m just saying. It’s tradition.”

“Becker, we were fucking before I even liked you. I think we’re far past the point of even presenting the illusion that we aren’t sleeping together, wouldn’t you agree?”

Becker chuckled, kissing the soft skin near Lester’s ear. “I love you,” he breathed softly.

Lester hummed something unintelligible, but he was already mostly asleep.

Tomorrow they were getting married. Becker expected that tomorrow he would be absolutely bloody terrified. But right now...

Life was good.


	7. Chapter 7

The morning arrived too soon, particularly for Becker. He was up before the sun and couldn’t fall back asleep, instead lying there and trying to shut his mind off. He had this horrible feeling that the day was going to be a disaster, perhaps with a T. rex running through his mum’s garden, or Henry throwing a fit and declaring he’d never speak to his dad again if he married Becker.

He supposed, though, there really wasn’t anything to do but get on with it. Whatever happened was going to happen and, God help him, this wedding was going to happen. He wasn’t entirely sure how long he laid there with Lester’s body heat seeping into him before he rubbed his hand over Lester’s back and said, “Come on, future husband, time to get up.”

Lester muttered something incomprehensible but probably along the lines of, _piss off and leave me alone, you wanker._ Possibly more polite, though you never knew when it came to Lester in the morning.

Wait.

Becker pushed himself up and looked at the clock. Shit. He swung his legs out of bed, dragging the covers off Lester. “Okay, if you actually want to still be my future husband and not have my mum banging down the door when we’re not there in time, you’d really better get up.” How had it got so late?

Lester rolled over onto his back, glaring at the ceiling. “I’ve changed my mind. Perhaps we should stop the wedding after all.”

“Oh, no. It’s only me who gets to do that, sweetie. Get up.” Becker leaned over to kiss Lester’s furrowed brow and then pulled at his arms to force him upright.

“All right, come off it, no need for violence,” Lester grumbled. He swatted Becker away and rubbed his hands over his face.

“I’ll start the coffee,” Becker offered.

He had (very, very wrongly) assumed that he and Lester would simply put on their suits and drive to Hampshire for the ceremony. When he mentioned that to his mum, after she’d asked him what time he was planning on arriving, she had proceeded to ask a lot of rhetorical questions about his intelligence and such, and generally bemoan his existence.

So, suffice it to say, he and Lester were taking their suits to get ready at Becker’s mother’s so that they wouldn’t do anything horrifying like see each other dressed beforehand. Becker frankly didn’t know what all the fuss was about, but it seemed to make his mum happy, so.

“I threw some clothes and things into a bag to take with us,” Becker said, pulling on a pair of jeans as Lester came out of the shower. His mother had offered to put them up in the guest room for the night, so they wouldn’t have to worry about getting home, tired and probably drunk, at however late the hour ended up being. While it was no doubt the most practical option, Becker had initially balked at the awkwardness of spending his wedding night under his mother’s roof.

But then again, the guest room had been his bedroom growing up, and he knew better than anyone how private it could be. Their honeymoon was going to be quite an expense, and even a small wedding came with a steep price tag. In the end, he and Lester had elected to save the hundreds of pounds they’d need for a hotel and a taxi and accept his mum’s offer. It certainly wouldn’t be the oddest thing they’d ever done.

“Lovely,” Lester said. A moment later, he called from the bedroom, “I didn’t think you meant you had literally thrown it all into a bag, but apparently I was mistaken.”

Becker bit his lip to keep from grinning.

-

They arrived at the house in Hampshire only a very little bit later than they had said, which Becker felt was good enough on this particular occasion, though Lester had been grumpy for the whole drive. The door swung open before they’d even got there, like someone had been watching out the window for them. Becker wasn’t surprised, actually.

“You’re here!” Becker’s mum, Aida, said, practically dragging them inside. She kissed them both on the cheek and relieved them of their suits. “The girls are all here, and Mark.”

“Fabulous,” Lily said, coming around the corner to meet them. “No one got cold feet and disappeared at the last minute; I had been worried.”

“There’s still time,” Lester said. “Not quite last minute yet.”

“I’ll handcuff Hils to a bed if necessary.”

“Why do you all think it would be me?” Becker complained, but he brightened when Maria came trailing in after Rosalyn, weaving around everyone to give Becker a hug.

“Because James already has a record of following through on weddings,” she said, the little traitor.

“Et tu, Maria?” Becker sighed.

Lily rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop it, you enormous drama queen.”

“Yes, do,” Becker’s mum said. “Rosie’s just leaving to pick up your gran, and in the meantime, come along, both of you, I’ll show you the garden.”

Becker submitted to being dragged around, trailing after his mum with Lester following. He passed Mark on the way, who at least appeared sympathetic to Becker’s plight. Of course, he had reason to be - Becker hadn’t forgotten Lily and Mark’s wedding. It had been _much_ bigger than this one.

Truth be told, the garden did look nice. There was an aisle set up, with chairs on either side, leading to a trellis artfully hung with flowers. “Mark arranged the sound system,” his mum was explaining. “And after the ceremony we can put in the tables so people can sit, and there will still be room for dancing. It’s perfect, with such a small guest list.”

“Right,” Becker said, though he wasn’t sold on the dancing part. Maybe the rest of them could dance.

“Don’t worry if it rains, I have a back-up plan.”

“Of course you do,” Becker said under his breath.

“You’ve got to see the cake now,” Maria insisted, pulling at Becker’s elbow.

The cake was in the kitchen. The cake tasting had been just about the only part of the wedding preparations Becker had been able to get behind. It didn’t, however, look quite like what Becker had been expecting.

“It’s what you asked for, hazelnut-almond with a chocolate ganache and raspberries, but we took some liberties with the decorating,” Maria said.

It was round and tiered, like most fancy wedding cakes, though it was smaller. Still, Becker expected they’d end up with a fair bit leftover.The only truly remarkable part was what was topping it.

Two little male figurines in tuxes, holding guns like they were James Bond, and a tiny raptor-shaped dinosaur in front of them.

“Really?” Becker said. “Really?”

Lester laughed, though. “I think it’s highly appropriate. I always did think I’d make a splendid Bond, and of course, David will love the dinosaur.”

“It was my idea,” Maria said proudly. “The figures are custom. They look like you, see?”

“We thought it might appeal to the eccentric nature of your relationship,” Lily added.

“It’s growing on me,” Becker admitted. The figurines were rather good likenesses. And the mini-Becker did have a gun. Yes, actually, perhaps he was fond of the whole thing, after all, even though it was terribly on-the-nose.

“Growing on you,” Lester scoffed. “As if you don’t sit there watching Bond movies, imagining yourself in his perfect suits and picturing how you would save England and every beautiful woman better than he does.”

“He did that as a child, too,” Becker’s mother said.

“Mum,” Becker whined.

Not long afterwards, Rosalyn returned with their grandmother in tow, who proceeded to all but pinch Becker’s cheeks in what seemed to be a concerted effort to embarrass him as much as possible. Lester, the bastard, got nothing more than an imperious demand to hug her before she wouldn’t be allowed to grab his bum any longer.

Becker averted his eyes in shame, too afraid to find out if she was joking or not. Lester’s expression retained a hint of smugness for quite some time.

They sat in the living room for a while, while Becker’s mum explained (for what felt like the hundredth time) how things were going to go. Eventually the doorbell rang, and his mum sprang out of her seat, swiftly followed by Lily. At the muffled sound of voices, Lester said, “Goodness, that must be Agatha and the kids,” and jumped up to go after them.

When he got to the hall, Becker saw that Lester’s guess had been correct. Lester appeared to be in the midst of introductions, but Agatha, catching sight of Becker, gave him a smile. The whole family was impeccably dressed, with the boys in suits that looked nearly as nice as any Lester owned, though David kept pulling at his tie and he looked slightly rumpled. Julia was wearing a summery dress that fell to her knees, her hair loose around her shoulders, while Agatha looked rather stunning in white.

“Hi, Hils,” David said, going over to claim his hug.

“You look as though you’re as uncomfortable as I’m going to be,” Becker told him.

David yanked at his tie again, fidgeting. “Mum made me wear it. It feels like I’m being punished.”

“Stop overreacting, David, dear,” Agatha said, giving Becker a kiss on the cheek. “I hope you won’t mind I wore white, I thought someone should,” she added to Becker, still smiling.

“It certainly won’t be me,” Becker said. “You look better than I would, anyway.”

As they walked back to the living room, Lester said, “You really could have brought Peter, if you’d wanted. I told you I wouldn’t mind.”

Agatha made a sound halfway between a laugh and a snort. “Bring my boyfriend to my ex-husband’s civil partnership ceremony? Yes, because that wouldn’t have been awkward for everyone involved. But thank you for the offer, James.”

After another round of introductions, the Becker women seemed to gravitate towards David, making a fuss over him. David seemed torn as to whether he was annoyed or pleased by the attention.

“You look nice,” Becker said to Julia. “I hardly ever see you in a dress.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t like wearing them, they make my knees look knobbly.”

Becker couldn’t stop his downward glance. “Your knees aren’t knobbly.”

“I’m afraid you saying that is the same as Dad saying it. You have to, so I don’t buy it.”

“Okay, well, for what it’s worth, then. Which is very little, apparently.” Becker glanced towards Henry and Lester. It was almost startling how similar they looked in their suits, like Henry was merely a decades’ younger Lester. His recent growth spurt, which put him at virtually the same height as his father, only enhanced the effect.

Henry, for his part, kept darting quick glances over in Maria’s direction and smoothing his hand over his hair. Wasn’t that interesting?

“You two had better dress,” Becker’s mother said. “There’s still the pictures to take and if you don’t get going you’ll be late to your own ceremony. James, darling, you can have my bedroom, there’s an ensuite bath, and Hilary, just use the guest room.”

“Like old times,” Becker said. The guest room had been his bedroom, once upon a time. He had certainly never envisaged that one day, he would be using it to dress for his wedding.

-

Becker finished dressing and considered himself in the mirror, feeling oddly nervous. He wanted desperately to look nice for Lester, to be the sort of man Lester could be proud of marrying. For a brief, crazed moment he thought about texting someone to come and check on him.

Someone knocked on the door. “Yes?” Becker called.

Lily entered and shut the door behind her. She came up to stand beside him, her big smile reflected in the mirror. “Oh, Hilary, look at you! You’re so handsome.”

A wave of relief washed over him at Lily’s praise and then he felt stupid about it. To cover it, he said, “Just you? I was expecting everyone to come in to bother me, Mum leading the way.”

“They wanted to, but I insisted on seeing you alone. Funny thing about being pregnant, everyone tries so hard to please you.”

Becker laughed. “You must be the most demanding pregnant woman ever, Lils.”

“Considering all the setbacks, I think it’s only fair to take advantage of the few perks.” Lily smoothed her hands over Becker’s suit jacket, over his shoulders and down the front. “Hils,” she said and sniffed delicately.

“Come on, Lily, it hasn’t even started yet. You can’t be crying already.”

“Shut up, it’s these sodding hormones,” she said defensively, but as she looked at him her eyes welled with tears. “Oh, Hils,” she said, and fell against him. “I’m so happy for you, you know that, don’t you? This is all I wanted for you.”

“I know, Lils, it’s okay. Don’t cry,” Becker said and patted her back. He couldn’t abide the sight of his sisters crying, even if it came from a place of warmth rather than grief.

She pulled back to see his face. “You never said, but I know how lonely you were. I could always tell. I wanted so badly for you to find what you needed, for you to be happy, happy like I was.”

Becker’s throat felt tight and he was finding it difficult to meet Lily’s eyes, so he looked down at her beautifully manicured fingernails against the grey material of his jacket.

“James isn’t the sort of person I ever would have imagined for you, but he’s really just... He’s so good for you, Hils, and when you talked about him... when I saw you together... He’s everything I ever wanted for you. I know you’ll be happy.”

“Thanks,” Becker managed to say and hugged Lily to himself, tucking his face against her neck where he could smell her perfume. She had used the same scent since she was a teenager and it always made Becker feel comfortable and… at home, in a way.

Lily stepped away and wiped carefully at her face. “Fuck, I’ve probably ruined my makeup and the damn ceremony hasn’t even started yet.”

“You look beautiful,” Becker said, completely honestly.

She smiled at him. “Thanks for saying it, even if I don’t quite believe you.” She headed for the door and then said, “Oh, and thanks for having this before I started to show too much, so at least I’ll still look good in the pictures.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Becker said, but he was grinning.

The door shut with a soft sound as she left. Becker checked to make sure his suit wasn’t suddenly wrinkled all over and then braced himself. He was marrying the man he loved.

He could do this.

In the hall, he was nearly accosted by his mother. “Hilary! Oh, goodness, look how handsome you are,” she said, running her hands over his jacket.

“Mum,” Becker said ineffectually, knowing, as always, to just accept that she was going to do whatever she liked.

“I wish your father were here to see you today. He’d be so proud.”

Becker squeezed his hand into a fist, his mother’s words cutting deeply for a reason he couldn’t name. “Yes, he’d be so proud to know I’ve fucked up my posting, resigned my commission, and married a man. My boss, no less.”

“I wish you wouldn’t think that way. Your father loved you more than you realise.”

“Well, that doesn’t matter any more, does it?”

“Hilary--”

“Mum, leave it alone.”

“If that’s what you want, darling, of course I will,” she said but there was so much hurt in her expression that Becker couldn’t stand it.

“He loved me, fine, but even you can’t possibly think that this would make him happy,” Becker said, waving his hand vaguely at their surroundings.

His mother didn’t reply, but her concession to Becker’s words was all over her face.

“I think I’ve finally realised that I don’t care about what he would think. If he were alive, and he stopped seeing me or speaking to me, or if he disowned me, or whatever the fuck he would have done, I wouldn’t care.” Becker pictured Lester in his head, pictured his face and his smile and the way he sounded when he laughed. “James loves me and he makes me feel like I’m worth something. All Father ever did was make me feel like I wasn’t good enough.”

She buried her face against the front of Becker’s shoulder. “Hilary, my darling, I’m so sorry. If I ever-- I should have--”

“Don’t, Mum. Please don’t. I love you.”

She sniffled a few times and pulled back, brushing at Becker’s shirt. “Yes. All right. Come on downstairs, if James is ready we’ll take some photos.”

Becker followed her, and hoped (vainly, he knew) that he would make it through the rest of the day without anyone else crying on him.


	8. Chapter 8

James got dressed like it was any other day, like he was going to dinner or to the theatre. He simply moved through the motions, pushing each button on his shirt through the proper hole, tucking the ends into his trousers, draping the tie around his neck and knotting it.

Just like any other day. Right.

There was a knock on the door and, given that James was presentable enough, he said, “Come in.”

Agatha ducked inside, closing the door behind her. “Oh! You’re nearly done.” She crossed the room and batted James’ hands away from his tie, fixing it herself. She had watched him tie a bow tie so many times during their marriage she likely could have tied it herself. “Do you remember our wedding? I had wanted so badly to have it outside and then it poured. The guests barely all fitted inside and the caterers were late. I was so stressed that I cried and my mother kept telling me don’t worry, the worse your wedding day is, the better your marriage will be. I thought surely we would have to have the perfect marriage.” She wasn’t looking at him, focused on the tie.

“I’m sorry that didn’t work out either. I should have been a better husband for you.”

“No, don’t do that, James. I made mistakes, too. And you have always been a good father to our children.”

James snorted. “It seems to me I could have done a better job at that as well.”

Agatha raised her gaze then, a fierceness in her blue eyes. “Don’t you dare think that. I won’t lie and say it’s been easy, but you always try, and how can I ask for more than that? You provide for them, you love them, and they love you. That is good enough for me.”

“Good enough,” James muttered under his breath. There was something very much not... ‘good enough’ about that for him.

“Stop that. Don’t be maudlin on your wedding day. What I came in here to say is that... I’m so happy for you, James, and I want you to believe that. Hilary is a lovely man. He’s... he’s good for you and I hope that you will be happy together.”

“Thank you, Agatha. That means a lot from you.”

“Now let me have one last kiss before you’re a married man,” she said, smiling impishly. She pressed her lips to his for a brief kiss before James could even react.

He could do nothing but smile after that. “You always were a little minx.”

She laughed and laid her hand on his cheek. “I wish you all the best. You deserve to be so happy.”

James watched her go with a sort of wistful fondness, his interactions with Agatha always holding a tinge of bitterness. He was sorry for all that had passed between them, for the mistakes and the hurt, but grateful that he still had her in his life. She had given him three beautiful children and even after everything, she was probably the best friend he had after Becker.

Becker. James stared at his reflection in the mirror. All he could see was the same face that always looked back at him, the same middle-aged man who had never been anything particularly special to look at. Except to Becker, and now that was all that mattered.

James pulled his jacket on, smoothing it into place. He gave an approving nod to the James Lester looking out of the mirror.

Perhaps it was vain of him, but he had always thought that he wore a suit exceedingly well.

Aida met him at the bottom of the stairs, saying, “James, darling, you’re perfect. Into the living room with you, now, we’ll take some photos in there, and then perhaps some in the study by the piano, and then I want some outside. It’s gorgeous at the moment but God knows how long that will last.”

“I expect you probably shouldn’t have said that,” James said as he followed her.

“Yes, I dare say you’re right. Well, if it pisses down you’ll know who to blame.”

James stopped still in the doorway, his eyes caught on Becker as he stood in conversation with his sisters. He hadn’t seen James yet, his face animated as he and his sisters laughed about something. His suit was grey, with a tie a few shades darker and a waistcoat, and James swore he was going to buy his tailor something expensive, as he’d really outdone himself. James had never had the pleasure of seeing Becker in a bespoke suit and he thought he might like to never see him in anything else again.

Well, maybe just the combat uniform with the thigh straps, for special occasions.

Becker was looking at him now, that self-satisfied expression on his face telegraphing clearly that James was probably gaping obviously. Becker strode over to James, whistling quietly. “James, I hope you know that I’d quite like to throw you down on that sofa right now, wedding be damned.”

“That would be a waste of a perfectly serviceable suit.”

“Perfectly serviceable, my arse. You look bloody gorgeous.”

James rather felt he had earned the right to feel smug. “Of course I do, darling. Now don’t muss me or I’ll look less gorgeous in the photos.”

“I respect your decision to go for a bow tie. Looks very dashing.”

“If you’re quite done perving over one another, Mum’s getting impatient,” Rosalyn said, grabbing them each by the arm.

Aida had hired a professional to shoot the pictures, though James noticed that she was snapping her own every time the camera wasn’t on her. He suspected that by the end of the day, they would have enough to fill a room. He had never much enjoyed posing for photos, and the photographer was rather pushy, but needs must and all that.

When they eventually moved outside, he discovered that the rest of their guests must have arrived while he’d been dressing. Their friends were milling about in the garden, and Jess ran to them as soon as she caught sight of them. She skidded to a stop in front of Becker and said, “I want to hug you both desperately, but perhaps I’ll wait until after you’re done with the pictures. It would be terrible to wrinkle your suits, you look amazing.”

“If you like, you can imagine you’ve already done it and we’ll be all settled, no need to worry about wrinkling at all,” James told her.

“Nice try,” she said.

“Nice dress,” Becker told her, grinning a little.

Jess twirled a bit, so that the skirt swirled around her legs. “Told you it was fabulous, didn’t I?”

“Personally, I’d like to buy those shoes off you,” Maria said, ducking in between Becker and James. “I’m Maria, Hilary’s sister. One of them, anyway.”

“Jess,” Jess said, sticking her hand out, at which point they were interrupted by Aida telling them all to hurry up so they could finish the pictures.

-

The photos took even longer than James had expected, as they ended up taking a few with the ARC team as well. Aida had declared them the finest-looking group of colleagues she’d ever seen and said it would be a shame not to get a few professional pictures while they were dressed in their best.

But finally, finally they were finished, and now that the officiant had arrived, all that was left was to start the ceremony.

Becker was concealing it, but James could tell he was anxious. It was in the way his eyes seemed unable to focus on any one thing and in the way he was tightly clenching his hands at his sides.

“One moment,” James said to Aida, and drew Becker back inside so they could have a few seconds of privacy. “All right?” he said.

Becker jerked his head in a sharp nod.

“In ten minutes it’ll be over,” James said. “And then we’ll have our lives to live.”

Becker’s smile was thin and tight but he moved closer, raising his hand to James’ jaw. “You are still completely rubbish at comforting, but that helps anyway,” Becker said, and kissed him. His hand slipped around to the back of James’ neck and James rested his at Becker’s hips.

James wished it was over, he wished it was tomorrow, when they would be married and settled and it would just be their lives. Tomorrow morning they would wake up, just like they had today, and yesterday, and nearly every day for the past couple of years, and it would be exactly the same and yet not the same at all.

“You’re supposed to wait until the prompt in the ceremony for that, but whatever,” Lily said from behind them.

As if out of contrariness, Becker kissed James again. Then he said, “I’ll kiss him whenever I like, thanks.”

“Only if I accept,” James said.

“Like you ever wouldn’t.”

Lily was smirking. “Are you ready? We’re just waiting on you two.”

James looked to Becker, who nodded firmly. “Let’s do this, then,” he said.

“How very inspiring,” James said, squeezing Becker’s palm.

Lily bustled out the door ahead of them, announcing that they were ready to start, before she took her seat.

As he gazed out at the small group of people, the people he liked best in all the world, James could hear Becker’s quiet intake of breath beside him. “Ten minutes,” he said again, barely a murmur, and Becker squeezed his hand back before releasing it.

They walked out together, while a recording of Pachelbel’s Canon in D played.

“Is that…?” James asked.

“Yes,” Becker said through clenched teeth. “I’m going to kill whoever’s idea that was.”

“You should have paid more attention when Aida asked what we wanted for music, then,” James said cheerily. He might not have entirely discouraged her suggestion of using the recordings of Becker’s own piano playing. The original idea, though, had been Maria’s, and Becker would definitely never, ever follow up on any threat made where Maria was concerned.

They came to a stop before the officiant, an older woman with greying hair. She smiled at them and said a few words of welcome, but James was mostly just watching Becker. It seemed like a lifetime ago that Becker had first walked into the ARC, that impossibly young and handsome soldier that James had known would be trouble from the start - he just hadn’t realised what sort of trouble he would turn out to be.

The officiant had got to the part about lawful impediments and James glanced away from Becker to their audience, to where his children were sitting, to Agatha, beautiful Agatha, and it seemed even longer ago that he had stood across from her, just like this. She was beaming at him, her smile as happy as it had been all those years ago, and he loved her now as much as he had then, if in a different way.

“James and Hilary have chosen to pledge themselves to each other by committing to a legally binding contract,” the officiant was saying, and James met Becker’s brown eyes again.

Becker was utterly, completely focused, and then he said, interrupting, “Wait. Can I… I know we said we weren’t going to, but is it okay if I say something, myself?”

James was startled, but the officiant only kept smiling. “Of course, please, go ahead.”

Though he took a deep breath before speaking, Becker was nothing but calm. “I’m not very good at this, any of it, and I don’t think that comes as a surprise to anyone here. But you made me want to try,” he said, his gaze heavy on James. “You made me want to have something that was real, and you made me think it was okay for me to want that. I suppose really all I want to say is that I love you, even when you’re being completely unbearable; I love you in this horribly ridiculous, soppy, storybook kind of way. I love you and I want to wake up next to you every day for the rest of my life, for as long as you’ll still have me.”

Becker’s gaze had dropped, like he was embarrassed, and he focused instead on pulling the ring out of his pocket. He held James’ hand and carefully, carefully slipped the ring on his finger.

James stared at it, and then up at Becker.

“Well, now I have to say something, don’t I? You always have to make things difficult,” he said, earning a chorus of light laughter. “You do, you know, Hils, you’ve filled my life with difficulty and complications but you made me see that I… that I was lonely and I didn’t have to be. You made me want things I’d convinced myself I didn’t want any more because I didn’t think I could ever have them. So I suppose I’d better keep you, if only because you’re an idiot and someone needs to save you from yourself.”

_My hero_ , Becker mouthed at him.

Determinedly ignoring that bit of cheekiness, James retrieved Becker’s ring from his own pocket and placed it on his finger. He didn’t let go of Becker’s hands.

The next few minutes seemed like a blur of legalities, repeating phrases and signing the contract, and James knew the only thing he would remember was Becker standing there in front of him, Becker’s face and the way he was smiling, the way his hands were warm in James’ grasp.

“It is my pleasure to declare you partners in law,” the officiant said, warmth in her voice. “Congratulations, and as tradition dictates, you may now kiss.”

So as their friends and family clapped, Becker kissed him, quick and light and entirely chaste, like he was all too aware of their audience. He looked flushed and uncomfortable and he was, quite frankly, impossible and infuriating and James loved him so much, loved him stupidly and completely.

James slid his hand up the back of Becker’s neck into his hair and kissed him again, held him until he could feel Becker relax into his mouth, until there was no one but the two of them, and when he pulled back Becker was still flushed but he was grinning, too.

“As if I would accept anything less than a proper kiss at our wedding,” James said, and Becker laughed.

He stroked his thumb over James’ cheek. “Well, husband. I guess that’s it. You’re mine, whether you like it or not.”

James slid his arms down around Becker’s waist and just gazed at him. Becker was his and he was Becker’s, now and for always.

That sounded pretty good to him.


	9. Chapter 9

After the ceremony, James endured more hugging than he had ever, ever wanted to. It was worse than the day the ARC team had learned of their engagement. He steadfastly ignored all the sniffling, particularly when it translated to damp spots on his suit.

Aida had a few small tables set up in the garden for the reception, if the weather held and people wanted to remain outside, but she was prepared to host everyone inside as well. As Becker had said she would, she’d thought of everything.

“Sure you’ve got enough booze?” Becker asked her, eyeing the bottles Aida had brought outside. “What sort of thing do you think you’re hosting?”

“I think I’m hosting my son’s wedding reception and I, for one, need plenty of booze,” Aida said, putting an emphasis on her words by pouring herself a gin and tonic. “Because it’s about bloody time!”

“My mother,” Becker said, gesturing towards her like she was the prize on a game show. “Sweetie, the next time you find yourself wondering how I came to be the person I am, I hope you will remember this.”

“Darling, you can only dream of being more like me,” Aida said, giving Becker’s cheek a quick, gentle pat. “Have a drink, dear,” she then said to James, passing him the gin. “The champagne for the toasts is chilling in the house, but you can open a bottle, if you’d prefer.”

Aida glided off, gravitating towards Agatha.

“At least she’s stopped crying. But really,” Becker said, eyeing the alcohol. “You’d think we were a family of alcoholics.”

Of course, that didn’t stop him opening the whisky and pouring a glass, nor making something with vodka and cranberry juice for Maria, as she came over to them. She hugged James tightly.

“Oh, you just look so handsome, have I said? You and Hils were gorgeous together, Mum must have taken a hundred pictures during the ceremony.” She flitted over to Becker next, nearly spilling the drink he’d given her in the enthusiasm of her embrace.

“Maria,” Becker said. “What is that?”

She looked confused. “What? Oh, the camera?” She looped it from around her neck to show them. “Um, it’s my camera. I’m not sure what else you think it could be.”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant, isn’t that the one with video?”

“Oh, of course! I was filming the whole ceremony, didn’t you notice?”

Becker looked rather like he wanted to die, right at that moment. “Christ. You mean that horrible, horrible moment of weakness, that humiliating speech I made, that’s on there?”

Maria beamed at him, her dimples showing. “Yes, Hils, I’ve captured it forever. You being so adorably in love that you couldn’t stop yourself. Isn’t it great?”

“Yes, great. Absolutely.” He was eyeing the camera like he wanted to shoot it.

Maria clutched it to her breast. “Don’t even think about it. James will want to have it, I’m sure.”

James was trying to recall whatever idiotic thing he’d said himself. He hoped it hadn’t been that embarrassing. It hadn’t, had it? Everyone had laughed, so it couldn’t have been.

His thoughts must have been written on his face because Maria sighed. “You’re awful, both of you. But I’m going to be filming whether you like it or not, and Jess has already said she’ll help me. Jess is wonderful, by the way, I have a feeling we’re going to be great friends.”

With that alarming statement, Maria left them.

“Two worlds that should never have collided,” Becker said sadly.

James was inclined to agree, particularly as he could see that David was currently deep in conversation with Connor, while Abby took a picture of them.

-

Keeping the wedding small was the best decision he and Becker had ever made, James decided. He enjoyed how low-key the entire affair was, how it was populated only with people he actually wanted to talk to.

“So you gave in to your sister after all,” Mark said, his eyes laughing. “I’d make fun but I’m not a hypocrite.”

“It wasn’t because of her,” Becker insisted, shifting uncomfortably. He had already lost his jacket and loosened his tie, standing there in his shirtsleeves. Likely the sleeves would get pushed to his elbows next, and then the waistcoat would be unbuttoned. Much as James enjoyed the suit, witnessing the unravelling of it wasn’t an unpleasant image. “I don’t know why I said those things. I was ready to just say ‘I do’.”

“Clearly you were overcome by the force of your affection for me, love,” James said. “Completely understandable.”

Becker made a face at him but Mark was laughing. “Well, whatever it was, your vows were still far less humiliating than mine.”

“True,” Becker agreed. “Yours were bloody awful, mate.”

“I should have gone with the flashcards,” Mark lamented.

“I doubt that would have helped,” Rosalyn said, passing them by on her way to the drinks table.

“Thanks for that,” Mark called after her, then looked at James. “You know we’ve got to stick together now, James, the two crazy bastards who actually thought marrying into this family was a good idea.”

“I plead momentary insanity,” James said.

“Momentary?” Becker asked. “You’ve been momentarily insane for quite a long time, then.”

“It’s a long, slow road to recovery.”

Becker starting fussing with James’ tie, pulling it out of his knot. “The sexiest thing about a bow tie,” he was saying, “because yes, bow ties _can_ be sexy, is untying them at the end of the night. There.”

“It isn’t the end of the night.”

“No, but this way I get to enjoy the effect for longer.”

“Okay,” Mark said. “Do you guys need a moment?”

“No,” James said, just as Becker said, “Maybe.”

Mark laughed, leaving them to have a moment after all, but Agatha soon came to take his place. “Nothing better than an untied bow tie,” she said.

“Right?” Becker said.

“And you’ve managed to get him to look half-dressed before we’ve even got to the toasts. I respect that.”

“Please,” James said, though it was a struggle to maintain a neutral expression with the two of them looking the way they were. “He doesn’t need anyone else puffing up his ego.”

“I think you accomplish that just fine yourself,” Agatha said slyly.

“Sorry?”

“Ask for a look at the pictures,” she said, and James swallowed a groan.

Becker was chuckling, though, until Agatha added, “Not that Hilary looks any less besotted.” That shut him up.

James decided not to look at any of the photos. He would have to see them soon enough. Instead, he walked over to where David was lost in an apparently thrilling conversation with Connor, again, or perhaps he simply hadn’t moved at all yet. James wasn’t sure which possibility was worse.

“Daddy,” David said, dragging his gaze from Connor. “Connor says I’d make a brilliant scientist, and he said I could study all kinds of things, but maybe I could be a-- an evolutionary zoologist, like Professor Cutter, Connor told me all about him, and then I could work at the ARC like you do!”

Connor fidgeted, slightly guiltily.

“He did, did he?” James said dryly.

“Yes! It would be brilliant! And maybe Julia could work there, too, Connor says they have physicists, too, to study the anomalies. And if Henry becomes a soldier, we could all work there!” After a moment of consideration, David added, “Maybe you’ll even still be there, Daddy. You aren’t _that_ old.”

“I appreciate the qualifier, David, thank you,” James said. Christ. “It seems Connor says a lot of things, doesn’t it?”

Connor smiled weakly. “Just, uh, you know. A thought,” he said.

Abby looked like it was taking all her willpower not to burst out laughing. “Does your son really want to join the military? I thought he was the worst behaved one.”

That made David giggle. Doubtless Henry would be relayed every word of this conversation.

“Henry doesn’t know what he wants to do, and he certainly doesn’t confide in me,” James said. “Last I heard he wanted to play professional rugby.”

The military thing, though, that was true. Henry was considering it. He had talked about it, with Agatha. She had hinted it was in no small part because of Becker. James didn’t know what to make of that, and had never mentioned it to Becker. He hoped with all his heart that Henry would decide against it, but knew that if he said anything to that effect it would likely only make Henry want to spite him.

Henry, at the moment, James noticed, was standing with Emily by the drinks table. Whatever he was saying, Emily seemed amused by it, her lips twitching upwards. He left with a single glass, which, to James’ surprise, he handed over to Maria.

“Henry’s got a crush on my sister,” Becker said, his sudden appearance only slightly less startling than his words.

James blinked. “What?” He stared over at the young people in question, eyes narrowing.

“Don’t have a heart attack, darling. Look, it’s sweet. Maria’s got him fetching her drinks.”

“Sweet,” James muttered. As if it wasn’t a nightmare in the making. But Maria was laughing, the sun glinting in her red hair, and Henry was smiling rather shyly, and, yes, all right. If Henry was to have an inappropriate crush, which at his age was likely unavoidable, at least Maria would be relatively harmless.

She saw them watching her and, with a brief touch to Henry’s shoulder and a few words, came over to them, a bounce in her step. “You know what it’s time for? Dancing! You should have a dance.”

“I’m not sure I--” Becker started, but he was silenced by Maria’s pleading expression.

“But it’s tradition, Hils, isn’t it? You’ve got to have a first dance, and I have your recordings, it will be so perfect! James, I’m sure you’re a lovely dancer, aren’t you?”

Well, no point being modest. “I am, actually.”

“Traitor,” Becker muttered at him, but he had clearly caved the second Maria looked at him with those giant green eyes. “What song exactly were you thinking of using?”

“The Billy Joel one. This Night.”

“I’d forgotten I even did that one. Well, I suppose I can stomach it. James?”

James smiled at Maria, because damned if he was going to be the one to say no to her. “I’m sure it will be perfect.”

She smiled back and then called, “Mum!” as she ran over to Aida, holding a hurried conversation.

“She’s going to film it, you know,” Becker lamented, his arms looped around James’ waist. “It will be worse than the vows.”

“Nothing could be worse than that, sweetheart,” James said, taking note of the way Maria was semi-discretely waving them towards where she wanted them. He brought Becker with him and determined to ignore the way they had suddenly become the sole focus of everyone’s attention again. It wasn’t like there was any way to avoid it.

When the music started, James started to move in time, opting for a simple two-step, letting Becker follow his lead. He said, “I’m starting to think I need to have a copy of these infamous recordings myself.”

Becker let out his breath in a tiny exhaled sigh and said, “There’s no point pretending Maria wouldn’t give you them if you asked. Though really, there’s something deeply unfair about no one pestering you to play the guitar or something.”

“Well, your recordings and the piano are both right here. No guitar. What a shame.”

“Yes, what a shame,” Becker said, clearly meaning the opposite. “What’d she pick this song for, anyway?”

“It’s the lyrics,” James said. “Rather fitting, actually.” He pressed himself closer against Becker, like it was only them, catching the beat of the music. “Didn’t I say there would be no complications,” he sang softly. “Didn’t you want someone who’s seen it all before, now that you’re here it’s not the same situation, suddenly I don’t remember the rules any more.”

James stopped, turning his head to the side slightly so he could press a kiss to Becker’s neck. Suddenly it really did feel like there was no one but the two of them, holding each other close with Becker’s song playing in the background.

“You don’t have to stop,” Becker said. “Don’t stop, please.”

So he sang the rest, mildly impressed that he still remembered all the words, and it was embarrassing, but it didn’t matter because it was Becker. They swayed slowly on Aida’s makeshift dance floor, out in the garden where Becker had grown up, where he’d probably spent hours and hours waging imaginary battles and pretending to be the hero he would later genuinely grow up to be.

The song ended, and people were clapping (or cat-calling, in Danny’s case, and sometimes James half-wished Danny had stayed lost in the past), and Becker was still holding James.

“It’s kind of about a one-night stand, though,” he said, and James laughed, pinching his waist.

“Every time I was with you was supposed to be a one-night stand,” he said, and pulled away. “If we’re all dancing now, I want a dance with my daughter.”

Julia stepped towards him, smiling, looking as beautiful as her mother ever had. “If you insist, Daddy,” she said, like she hadn’t done in years, since she and Henry had decided they were far too mature to be calling anyone ‘daddy’.

“I love you,” James said, startling even himself. He didn’t say it as much as he should. He should say it more, to each of them.

“Yeah, I know,” Julia said, her small hands on his shoulders. She was flushing red, like she was embarrassed, but she was still smiling.

They all paired off, and before he got a chance to sit down James thought he’d done a turn with every woman there, plus Becker, and one very short-lived moment with Danny. (Don’t ask.) He was a bit breathless when he finally got off his feet, sitting at the table with Aida and taking the drink she offered him. Becker was still in the middle of it, and seemed to be enjoying himself more than a little, in spite of all his protesting earlier. He was a good dancer, likely a result of the lessons he had once told James his mother had insisted upon, and he and his sisters had begun to get creative, swapping out the music so they could do waltzes and foxtrots. James was half-expecting them to try a tango next.

“May I ask you a question?” James said to Aida.

“Of course. As my new son-in-law, I believe you have the right to ask me whatever you like.”

“Why did you name him Hilary?”

“I had my heart set on a girl and when he turned out to be a boy, I decided to keep the name anyway.”

James stared at her but was utterly unable to determine whether she was being serious or not. So that’s where Becker got it from, apparently.

Aida glanced sideways at him, almost but not quite smirking. “You must think I’m one of those terrible mothers who name their children without thinking of how it will affect them. I’ve no doubt being called Hilary did make his childhood rather unpleasant at times, but he turned out all right, don’t you think?”

James watched Becker spin Maria around on the floor, his smile wide and genuine, and felt a smile touch his own lips. “Yes, he did.”

Following James’ gaze, Aida watched Becker too and said, “Hilary always felt like he had something to prove. To the boys in the schoolyard who mocked his name, to his father, to the old men who remembered his father, to everyone who thought he was treated differently because he was a Becker. Even to me, after his father died.”

Becker so rarely spoke of his childhood and James was unable to deny his curiosity. He wondered how what Aida had to say would match up to what he’d learned from Becker. “How old was he when it happened?”

“Fourteen, and already so grown up. Now, don’t misunderstand me, he was a rather sullen teenager and he had his share of spats at school, but he was such a help to me. He was always ready to help me with whatever I needed and he was wonderful with his sisters, especially little Maria. She was only seven, you know. I don’t think I could have got through without him.”

Aida’s voice had grown thick and she wiped at her eyes. While James tried to think of what he should do, Becker made his way over to them, unceremoniously planting a kiss on James that managed to almost completely miss his mouth, and then pressed his mouth to his mother’s cheek, sitting down beside her. “Mum, you can’t possibly be crying again? She hasn’t cried this much since they shipped me off to Afghanistan,” he said to James.

“Don’t make fun, Hilary,” Aida said, squeezing his knee.

“I would never,” he claimed, standing up again and holding out his hand. “Would you do me the pleasure?”

Aida’s eyes were leaking tears and James handed her a handkerchief. She dabbed at her face and then let Becker lead her out for a dance, smiling brilliantly despite her puffy eyes and red nose.


	10. Chapter 10

As it started to turn dark outside, Aida ushered them all inside the house for dinner. As there were too many of them to sit at the dining room table, she’d arranged for something a bit more informal, with food they could take with them as they moved around where they liked.

Of course, first she (and everyone but James and Becker, really) insisted on a toast. Neither James nor Becker had actually chosen a best man, but that was hardly an impediment. In fact, there were several parties quite keen to momentarily take up the role, just so they could make embarrassing toasts.

Like Danny. “Now, I remember when I first met Becker. I thought to myself, there’s a man in dire need of a good shag. Can’t say I ever thought Lester would be the man to give it to him, but hell, what do I know?”

And Jess. “I don’t want to be conceited, but, let’s be honest, I might be, a little, and I have to say, I feel like I deserve some credit for this wedding actually happening. Becker and Lester are kind of stupid sometimes, yeah? But I have very helpfully nudged them in the proper direction, once or twice. So you’re welcome, boys, and you’re still the most adorable couple I know. Sorry, Abby and Connor.”

(Which prompted Matt to ask, “Don’t Emily and I get an apology, too?”

“We’re loads more adorable than you!” Connor responded.)

James’ favorite part was when Becker’s family started telling embarrassing stories about him. It was less amusing when the twins jumped in to do the same to him. Connor looked like all his dreams had come true.

The champagne helped quite a bit with that, though. James felt vaguely warm and content, like there wasn’t anywhere he would rather be. He felt comfortable in a way he had never felt on the day of his wedding to Agatha, not until they had been alone together at the end of it. It helped that he didn’t constantly have the disapproving glare of Agatha’s father boring into the back of his head.

James noticed Becker looking a bit paler than normal, particularly considering how much alcohol he’d been imbibing. “What’s the matter, pet?” he asked, coming up beside Becker and slipping an arm about his waist. “You look ill.”

“My sister just said the most horrifying thing to me.”

“Did she?” It must have been Rosalyn, James had noticed her walking away just now.

“She’s going to try to pick up Jess.”

James followed Becker’s line of sight to where Jess and Rosalyn were smiling and giggling at each other. “Hmm. Well, they are both lovely girls.”

Becker turned his head so he was looking at Lester directly. He looked rather betrayed, to be honest. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

Shrugging, James said, “I can’t see that it’s my business.”

Becker huffed. “Oh, right. You were ready to toss Russ out on his arse when you thought he was overly interested in Jess, but Rosie just gets, oh, she’s a lovely girl?”

“She is.”

“You’re the worst,” Becker said.

“I know, poppet. In any case, your anxiety is rather premature. Perhaps Jess isn’t interested in women at all.” Of course, James hadn’t failed to notice Rosalyn’s hand on Jess’ arm and they seemed to be leaning into each other quite closely. Still, premature. Jess was a friendly person on an ordinary day, and today she was both extremely happy and extremely tipsy.

“Rosie is very persuasive,” Becker muttered darkly.

“Think of it this way, ducks. They’ll both be in good hands.”

Becker’s face contorted in a disgusted expression. “Oh, God, don’t put that sort of thought in my head! Christ, James, that’s my sister, and Jess may as well be.”

“Don’t blame me, I only made a perfectly innocent comment. You’re the one thinking dirty thoughts about your sister.”

“Ah!” Becker exclaimed, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Stop it, you horrible, horrible person.”

Of course, that was when Danny decided to wander over to them, saying, “Becks, mate, your sisters are gorgeous. Why did you never tell me you had gorgeous sisters? Seems like the kind of thing you might want to confide in your friends. Single, handsome, eligible friends, especially.”

“I have a gun. I will shoot you,” Becker said.

“I mean, really, let’s think about this. Basically, they were your bridesmaids, and I’m basically Lester’s best man, and everyone knows what the best man and the bridesmaids get up to at a wedding.”

“In the face.”

“The younger ones didn’t even bring dates.”

“I will kill you.”

“He probably will,” James confirmed.

Danny was grinning. “Well, that’s nice. How about your mum, then? She off-limits, too? Because, let me tell you, she is--”

“I swear to God I’ll kill you,” Becker said.

“What a firecracker,” Danny said, patting Becker’s cheek before Becker shoved him off. “I can see why you like him, Lester.” He sauntered away, Becker’s gaze following him.

Becker needn’t have worried, as Danny headed towards Agatha. Which was an entirely different sort of worrying, but James elected to cope with it. Agatha was more than capable of handling Danny.

He distracted himself by stepping over to Abby, Emily, and Jess, who were laughing together in a corner. The girls had clearly taken advantage of Aida’s generous supply of alcohol. Even Emily, who was generally the most composed of the bunch, had a flush in her cheeks and several strands of hair had escaped from their pins.

“Lester, we have a question to ask. A very important question.” Jess’ serious expression was at odds with the way she was obviously on the verge of collapsing into giggles.

“Why do I have the feeling that this is an utterly inappropriate question?”

Abby, unsurprisingly, launched right into it. “This has been a point of debate for, well, for ages. We want to know which of you tops.”

“Oh God,” James said as Jess gave in to the losing battle against her desire to laugh.

“We need to know for... for reasons,” she said. “For science!”

“We can’t come to a conclusion, you see,” Abby went on. “You’ve both got that alpha male sort of personality, but then of course that doesn’t always mean anything. Sometimes it’s the dominant ones who like to be controlled, right? Personally, I look at Becker and it’s like he’s got ‘I’m a humongous bottom’ on a flashing sign above his head.”

James stifled a grin. Oh, Becker would _love_ to hear that.

“We have considered that you take turns,” Emily added in an apparent bid for fairness as well as full disclosure. James wondered how much exposure to the twenty-first century it had taken for her to shake off any lingering Victorian notion of decorum in regards to sex, because it was clearly shaken off. Then again, Emily had never been overly decorous.

Gazing at them each in turn, James said, “I believe this is one of those times where it’s best to leave things to your imagination.” He gestured in Becker’s direction. “It would be a terrible waste not to take advantage of that arse, however, don’t you think?”

“Yours looks pretty fine in those trousers, too, Lester,” Abby called after him, a chorus of giggles ringing out.

“Quit ogling my husband’s bum,” Becker shouted at them, placing his hand possessively on James’ arse. “You’re looking rather pleased with yourself, pumpkin. What was that about?”

“Probably best if you don’t know.” James felt a buzzing in his pocket and he took out his mobile, checking the message. Oh, bugger.

“What’s that?” Becker asked, carefully watching James’ face. “It’s an anomaly, isn’t it? Shit. Of course it is, of course there’s a sodding _anomaly_ during our wedding reception.”

James settled his hand at the base of Becker’s neck, rubbing his thumb gently. “It could be worse. It could have been _at_ our wedding reception.”

Becker looked a bit like he wanted to punch James in the nose.

James bit back his smile. “It’s nothing. The team will take care of it and there won’t be anything for us to worry about.”

Becker looked doubtful but he didn’t say anything, as Matt was already approaching.

He was looking rather apologetic. “Suppose you’ve got the alert.”

“Yes,” James confirmed.

“That’s me gone, then. I’m sorry to cut and run, but…”

“Of course. You’ll keep me apprised?”

“Not on your life,” Matt said, nearly smiling. “You’ll get nothing from me unless it all goes balls up, James.”

“That’s about what I expected, yes,” James said.

“Matt,” Becker started, but Matt interrupted him, squeezing his shoulder briefly.

“Let me handle this, mate. It’s only fair.”

After a moment, Becker nodded sharply. “Yes, all right.”

“Okay. Try not to let this wreck your night. Congratulations, again, you made a beautiful couple,” Matt said, with a quirk of his lips that was his own equivalent of a big, cheeky grin. He stopped to confer with Emily, Abby, and Connor, who then all made their way to James and Becker.

“We’re going to the anomaly with Matt,” Abby said. “I wish we could stay.”

“Yes, of course,” James said. “Thank you all for being here, and do try to be safe.” They couldn’t be _that_ tipsy, or Matt would know better than to allow them to come along.

“Aren’t we always?” Connor asked, with a sly expression that suggested he already knew the answer to that.

“Are you going to be safe to drive?” James asked Abby.

“Oh, don’t worry, Matt had one glass of champagne for the toast and that’s all,” she assured him. “Anyway, I can feel myself sobering already. But we’ll keep the EMDs away from Connor, in any case.”

“Oi,” Connor protested.

“It was a lovely ceremony,” Emily said, leaning in to kiss James and Becker in turn on the cheek, which was quite demonstrative for her.

“It really, really was,” Abby said, and hugged them.

“I think we’ve filled our hugging quota for the year,” Connor said, and offered his hand to shake instead.

“I believe ‘for a lifetime’ is what you meant to say,” James corrected.

“I don’t like this,” Becker said, watching them as they made their exit, saying goodbye to Aida and the others. David, alarmingly, wanted a hug from Connor before he left.

“I know you don’t, Hils, and I don’t, either, but this is how our lives are, unfortunately.”

Lily and Mark walked over. “Well, that put a damper on things, didn’t it?” Lily asked.

“Cake?” Mark suggested.

“Brilliant,” Becker agreed. “Mum, cake now!”

“Well, all right,” Aida said, catching his eye. “No need to nag me like you’ve turned five again.” She refused James’ offer of assistance and brought Becker’s sisters into the kitchen with her instead.

After a few minutes, they reappeared with the cake, a knife, plates, and forks. The cake went onto the dining room table and they were all urged to gather around it.

Becker accepted the knife from Aida and said, “So, who gets to cut it?”

“It’s a photo opportunity, remember, Hils?” Lily said, in her, ‘oh my God, you’re so stupid I can’t believe we’re related’ voice. “You cut the first piece together.”

“Of course,” Becker said, rolling his eyes.

“I could have told you that,” James said. “Has everyone got all the pictures they want of the cake before we ruin it? Yes? Good,” he said, putting his hand over Becker’s, the blade of the knife just settling into the bottom layer. He was well aware that Maria was filming, and that Jess, at the very least, had already started snapping pictures.

“At least we know you know how to use a knife, cherub,” he said to Becker, and pushed his hand down.

“Can I have the dinosaur with my piece?” David asked.

“Obviously,” James said, and set it aside. He stuck his fork into the slice of cake and poised it in front of Becker’s mouth. “Open up, love, it’s tradition.”

Becker scowled. “Bugger tradition,” he said, but he jammed his own fork into the piece of cake anyway. “At least I’ll get to get you messy. You know that’s my favourite activity.”

“Hils,” James tutted. “Not in front of the children,” he said, but was unable to restrain his smirk. He could practically hear the twins gagging in the background.

They fed each other off the forks, and it was a tad messy, but Becker was licking icing off his lip so it was basically an open invitation to kiss him. So James did, quite thoroughly, deciding that the cake really was excellent.

“Well,” Becker said, his mouth still brushing against James’. “That’s one tradition I think I can support, at least.”

“Stop snogging so we can have cake, please, Daddy,” came David’s voice, which made Becker snicker against James’ mouth.

“Yes, all right,” James said, pushing Becker away. “I suppose I can only expect so much patience where cake is concerned.”

“He did say please as well,” Becker said, grinning.

“That’s my polite boy,” Agatha said, ruffling David’s hair so that he scowled.

They passed around plates of cake, and Aida told them she’d box up what was left to take with them. Putting it in the break room at the ARC would likely solve the problem of what to do with it all - it wouldn’t last a day.

Not much longer after that, Agatha announced it was time the kids were off home. David had started to get that wide-eyed look he got when he was too excited to admit that he was exhausted. James hugged them all again, even Henry, who submitted without any fuss, with Becker following suit. Becker, though, James noted, didn’t try to hug Henry - he only offered his hand.

“The ceremony was perfect, James, and you both looked so handsome and happy,” Agatha said, holding him tightly and pressing her lips to his cheek. “I’m so glad for you.”

“Yes, thank you,” James said, for lack of anything better to say. “I... I hope perhaps one day, I can say the same to you.”

“Me, too,” she said, smiling, and bustled the children through the door.

“We should be leaving as well,” Jess said, standing next to Danny. “Time you got some privacy.” She managed to say that whilst maintaining perfect innocence.

“Yeah, go shag each other into oblivion,” Danny added, not even trying to be anything but blunt. “Before the magic wears off. I hear it happens pretty quickly.”

“Piss off,” Becker said.

James ignored Danny in favour of Jess, which he felt would always be a sound decision. “Jess, I know for a fact that you shouldn’t be driving.”

“Oh, it’s all right, I didn’t drive here. I’m going home with Danny.”

James directed his gaze to Danny. “I somehow doubt you’ve been limiting your alcohol consumption, Mr Quinn.”

“Cut myself off a couple hours ago, guv. Safe to drive, on my honour.” He saluted. “I wouldn’t offer, otherwise,” he said, more seriously, so James nodded.

“All right,” he started to say, until he was interrupted by Becker.

“Better Danny than Rosie,” he was muttering.

Jess gave him a small, knowing half-smile. “Rosie’s lovely. She gave me her number.”

Becker blanched and James rubbed the small of his back in a bit of a faux-comforting gesture. “We’ll be in Monday morning, just to get things in order, and then--”

“Spend a couple weeks shagging each other’s brains out across Europe,” Danny finished helpfully. “Sound plan. Gets my approval.”

Jess was laughing so James took the higher road and simply let her hug him one last time. “Have a good night,” she said. “I’ve never seen you so happy, and I hope... Well, I suppose you know.”

“Yes,” James said, letting himself smile at her.

After everyone had left, James got a text from Matt, letting him know there was no trouble with the anomaly, and then one from Connor, hoping they’d saved him some cake.

He and Becker tried to assist with the clean-up, but Aida and the others were having none of it. “Get out of here,” Aida insisted, guiding them away as Rosalyn stole the plates out of their hands. “You absolutely will not be cleaning up on your own wedding day.”

“But--”

“But nothing, off with you!”

James knew when he was beaten. He also knew when it was necessary to accept it. This was one of those times. He slid his arm around Becker’s waist, and Becker leaned into him.

“The guest room is all ready for you,” Aida said, brushing her hand along James’ arm. “I’m sure Hilary has assured you of how perfectly private it is. You’ll forget anyone’s even here.”

“Mum,” Becker half-sighed, wearily.

“Thank you,” James said, electing to ignore the insinuation and giving Aida a small smile. “You were the perfect host, and you made today better than I could have hoped.”

“Obviously,” she said, her pleased smirk reminiscent of Becker’s. “I’m glad for anything I did to contribute to your happiness-- not least of which is, of course, the fact I can claim responsibility for your husband’s existence.”

“Think I get at least some of the credit for being me,” Becker muttered.

“Yes, dear,” Aida said, kissing his cheek, and then James’. “I’ll see you in the morning, or the afternoon, or whenever you decide to emerge.”

James tried not to feel like a teenager hoping to get off with his boyfriend under his mother’s roof, and turned towards the stairs.

“Oh, by the way,” Aida added, “Hilary’s a family name.”

Chuckling, James headed up the stairs with Becker in tow.

“What was that about, sweetie?” Becker asked.

“Nothing to worry your pretty head about.”

Upon reaching the guest room, they both paused in the doorway. The room was filled with candles, covering nearly every surface. Unlit, but the matches were in plain sight.

“That’s new,” Becker said. “She’s done this after I got changed in here. God, she’s embarrassing.”

“I suppose we should be grateful she’s encouraging,” James said.

“Encouraging. Right.” Becker collapsed on his back on the bed, dragging James down on top of him.

“We should undress, at least,” James said, though to be honest, Becker’s chest was feeling quite comfortable at the moment.

“Mmm, maybe later. Kiss me first.”

James obliged, because he was a saint. He brushed his fingers through Becker’s black hair. “You shouldn’t be so tempting.”

“Yes, I definitely should be.” Becker wiggled around a bit beneath James, shifting into a different position, and then said, his hands resting at James’ waist, “I have a confession to make.”

“Hmm, what’s that?”

“I’m trying to work out if I’m too drunk to get it up,” Becker said, looking quite forlorn.

James couldn’t help it. He laughed.

“How do you like that? It’s rude to make fun. I’m your husband, after all.”

_I’m your husband,_ he said, simply and matter-of-fact, and it finally seemed to sink in. They were married. Becker was his, only his, for always. James hauled Becker in for another kiss, deeper than before. Becker moaned into James’ mouth, hands tightening at his waist, tasting of cake and champagne.

“No,” Becker said, tilting his hips upward. “I think I’m good. Definitely.”

James rolled off Becker slightly, holding himself up on one forearm, his other hand rubbing Becker’s chest. “Are you sure? Not too tired?”

“Oh, you take that back,” Becker said, as though it was a personal insult. He shoved James flat down on the mattress and knelt over him, sucking on James’ neck like he wanted to leave the biggest mark he could.

Which, all right, James could live with that. Tonight he could live with anything. He arched his neck and said, “You might want to lose some clothing.”

“I’m trying!” Becker was, indeed, attempting to undo the buttons and then shrug his way out of his waistcoat and shirt whilst not moving away from James.

Helpfully, James got to work on Becker’s fly. Once Becker had thrown his shirt on the floor, he moved away long enough to divest himself of his trousers, underwear, and socks. Then he took a detour over to the bag they’d brought with them, getting out the tube of lube before settling over James again.

“What are you planning to do with that?” James asked, his hands stilling on the last of his buttons.

There was a trace of wickedness in Becker’s small smile. “I’m sure we’ll think of something.” He dealt with James’ remaining button himself and then touched his mouth to James’ bare skin.

James bit his tongue to keep quiet, scraping his nails over Becker’s back. He felt Becker’s hands on him, and Becker’s warm mouth, and then he used his hips to flip them over. He knew, the way he always knew, that every time he did this it was only because Becker let him do it. It was a weird kind of thrill, having someone in his bed who could kill a man with his bare hands, who trusted James enough to submit.

“Now would be a good time for the lube. Just saying,” Becker said, looking up from his position on his back. Just the way James liked him.

But James knew it wasn’t time for that, not yet. Instead he kissed his way across Becker’s collarbones and over to one shoulder, kissing every bit of skin he could, the way he never grew tired of.Becker was making soft noises, like little sighs, and seemed unable to decide what to do with his hands. He was skimming them over James’ skin, up and down, and then tugging at James’ hair.

The sighs became more of a groan, and then a choked back curse, when James moved lower to nuzzle Becker’s groin and to put his mouth to much, much better use. Becker’s hands lodged firmly in James’ hair, insistent.

James decided the lube might be appropriate after all, sliding his mouth off Becker with a quiet, wet sound. Becker muttered something filthy and rude.

“Language, poppet,” James scolded, coating his fingers in the lube.

“Hate you so much, baby,” Becker murmured, the tips of his fingers digging into James’ sides. He tipped his head back into the pillow, back arching, as he made the sweetest, sweetest sounds.

After that James found there wasn’t much point in thinking. There was just the press of skin to skin, and the way Becker was hot and tight and perfect, the way he pushed and pulled and held so hard James was going to have Becker-shaped bruises all over. James could tuck his nose into the dip of Becker’s collarbones or into the join of his neck and shoulder and smell clean sweat and the scent of Becker’s skin. He liked the way Becker mumbled his name, mixed in with gasps and curses, like it was important, like it was everything.

_Mine,_ he thought, _Hils, stay, stay with me,_ and knew that Becker would. The ring felt like an anchor around his finger, keeping them together, and sometimes he could feel the cold metal of Becker’s ring against his skin. He bit down on Becker’s shoulder, Becker’s legs still clenched around him and his arms holding nearly as tightly, and it was then he realised, in the haze of his lust, he hadn’t even got so far as to do more than unzip his own trousers. It had been an expensive suit. Bespoke.

James feathered tiny kisses to Becker’s jaw while he caught his breath, feeling Becker’s hands flutter up and down his back. “You’ve ruined my suit,” he said.

“Not the first time you’ve said that to me.” Becker was using his ‘absolutely not sorry’ voice.

“Somehow I’m sure it won’t be the last, either.”

“God forbid,” Becker said, as James gently rolled off him to the side. “I hope you realise that this doesn’t mean I won’t wake you up in the middle of the night to have another go. Now that we’re married, it is my right to shag you whenever I want.”

“I’m not certain it works quite like that.”

Becker gasped. “Doesn’t it? Well, what’s the point, then?”

“Ah. So that’s why you wanted to get married.”

“Surely you didn’t think it was because I liked you or anything.”

“I promise you the thought never even occurred to me.”

“Oh, good. I’d hate to think our marriage was started under false pretenses.”

“That would be terrible,” James agreed. He stroked his fingers over Becker’s bare skin, through the dark strands of hair on his chest. Maybe in a minute he’d get up, have a wash before they got too sticky. In a minute. “But tell me one thing, sweetheart.”

“Anything, my love,” Becker said, adopting a sort of falsely simpering tone.

“How exactly would you having a shag whenever you want be any different from when we weren’t married?”

“Because,” Becker said, levering himself up off his back and stretching out over James. “Now I’ve only got you to shag, for ever and ever.”

“Oh,” James said, his fingers dancing along the back of Becker’s neck as Becker pressed his face into the crook of James’ neck, his hair brushing against James’ cheek. Becker’s skin was slick with sweat and other things and James didn’t care, he really, really didn’t. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of Becker’s hair, the shampoo and product. “Well, that’s all right, then.”


	11. Chapter 11

**_Epilogue_ **

_From the video footage taken during Becker and Lester’s wedding:_

Becker is sitting in front of the camera, his tie abandoned, the first couple of his shirt buttons undone, and his hair faintly ruffled, as if someone’s been running their fingers through it. He looks into the distance for a second, eyes bright, and then back into the camera as he begins to speak.

“I hope this is recording properly because honestly, I’m too pissed to be able to tell. But these things are easier when you’re not actually looking at the person, right? Like writing a letter? If people still actually wrote letters. And, anyway, like I said, I’m too pissed to be all that bothered. So, James, I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry it took me this long to get my head out of my arse and just do this. My adult life has been basically a string of meaningless shags and short-lived flings that can hardly even be called relationships. And then I met you. Well, that’s not really right, because when I actually met you, sleeping with you was probably the last thing on my mind, but I think you know what I mean. You’re good at that, figuring out what I mean when I can’t say it properly. I know that you said that the wedding wasn’t important, that it wasn’t actually the wedding that you needed, but I saw how happy you were today and I’m just glad that I was finally able to do something right, to not fuck it all up. Because I really fucking love you, you know? I want to spend the rest of my life with you and I didn’t think I’d ever feel that way about someone. Christ, I've had too much to drink. I’m going to regret this tomorrow, aren’t I? And it has occurred to me that Maria is going to see this before you ever do, James, and probably Jess as well, and God knows who else. Okay, what was I saying? Right, I’m glad we decided to get married for real. Because I love you. And because now everyone on the street will know you’re taken, that you’re just mine. I’m a selfish bastard that way. And then, of course, because now we get to go to traipsing around the continent and shag each other senseless in expensive hotels. To James’ kids, if you’re watching this, please ignore that last bit. Your dad and I keep things strictly above the belt and we’ll most likely spend our honeymoon watching telly.”

“Hils, what are you doing?” Lester comes into view, giving the camera a glance and then focusing his attention on Becker.

“I’m saying something to you that I’m probably going to be hugely embarrassed about in the morning. That’s if I remember it, of course.”

“Nothing new there, then.”

“Funny. You’re so clever.”

“And you’re drunk. Idiot,” James adds with affection, like it’s their own private joke.

“Obviously. Do you want a reward for arriving at that brilliant deduction?”

“I love that you can still correctly use words like ‘deduction’ in a sentence when you’re pissed, sweet pea.”

“Was that a compliment? James, darling, you must have had more to drink than I’d realised. Now come here and give me a kiss.” Becker pulls a mostly compliant Lester into his lap and they share a deep kiss.

Lester remains in Becker’s lap, his arms draped around Becker’s neck. “Was this your plan all along? To get me on camera looking as utterly undignified as you could manage?” His tone holds a note of irritation but his expression is only fond.

“While I’d love to say yes, I’m afraid you’re giving me entirely too much credit. Now, husband, look into the camera and tell me how much you love me. For the record.”

Lester gives a well-rehearsed put-upon sigh. “If you insist. To the Hils who isn’t drunk, I love you, even when you’re being pushy, demanding, and presumptuous.”

“You love me best when I’m pushy,” Becker insists, heat in his eyes as he looks at Lester.

After whispering something in Becker’s ear that makes him laugh, Lester says, “I’d like to keep our sex life off-camera, please, dear. Come on, Agatha’s going to take the kids home now, we’ve got to say goodbye.”

“Mm, okay. I hope Henry won’t be too disappointed, forced to endure a separation from my sister.”

“I doubt he can be much more upset than David was when Connor left.”

“True enough,” Becker agrees.

He leans forward to switch the camera off. The screen goes black.

**_End_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much to everyone who has ever left me a comment on this series, and especially to those of you who stuck with me all the way from the beginning. It is near and dear to my heart, as it came at a time in my life that has not been the best and it brought me out of a writing block that at times felt like it would never end. Plus it led me to the Primeval Denial LJ comm way back when I was a shy newbie hoping for a beta. :) I hope you have enjoyed Becker and Lester's journey as much as I enjoyed writing it, and your comments have been love. <3


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